Flames of Vengeance: A Symphony of Chaos
by Mox Jet
Summary: I've been hesistent to post this because it's not your everyday Chrono Trigger Fanfiction and I worried about no one reading it. This is a very deep story taking place many centuries after the game, detailing a struggle against Lavos's species.
1. Notes

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**Notes **

It is 3000 years past the conclusion the The Planeswalkers, and it is high time for a sequel to the story that the author is happy with. 

While writing Twins of Destiny, I came to the realization that I would probably never be able to cover the span of the mass continuum that I had planned for the LEA at the rate I was going. I have confessed numerous times to having an overactive imagination, but it was when I began conglomerating with a few other well known authors (Nanaki, Nightsong, Cain and NeoKefka, in the order I 'joined' with them) that my universe began to get out of control. This was mostly due the fact that it was by no means only my universe anymore. It had become the universe of four other extremely talented authors as well. And, especially following my extended conversations and growing friendship with Nightsong, I realized that we had created far more than could be encompassed in any amount of writing that either of us would get done within the time that we were still pursuing merely an undergraduate education. 

It was coming to this realization that led me to also conclude that the amount of story which I wanted to encompass could never be told by writing tales that took place a mere two years apart, as it was with Planeswalkers and the Twins of Destiny. 

The LEA, of whose creation The Planeswalkers was designed to lead up to, ended up existing for over 1500 years, as did Lathain of Zeal and his endeavors to eliminate the Lavoids once and for all. To be able to tell the individual quests and adventures each in novelized form (one being what Twins of Destiny was designed to do) would not only be impractical, it would also prevent me from telling the full breadth of stories that I and the other authors had created. 

So, Twins of Destiny, a story which I feel was (and still is) promising, needed to be bypassed in order to allow me to get on with the epic of the LEA, Lathain, and his descendents. 

This new story, therefore, is as much a sequel to The Planeswalkers as Starcrossed is to Chrono Continuum or Tempo Trigger is to the Origin/Aftermath of Mount Woe. The only difference is that I am not dealing with the same characters; I am merely dealing with the same elements. In this regard, it is the best way of fleshing out the Multiverse (Word of Imagination) that I write in. There is still so much that needs to be covered with respect to the origins of the Lavoids, the Eldar, the Queens, the Finori, Zohar and Deus (yes, Zohar and Deus), the Dominion and the Union, the rise and fall of the LEA, and, most importantly to _this_ tale, Lathain's son, Duncan. 

For those of you who were enjoying Twins of Destiny, I have every intention of continuing to write it. In the prologue of this new epic, the history of the LEA is outlined, including the events of the Celes Incident, so you _will_ find out what happened, but I've left it as vague as possible to simply provide the most crucial info. So, fear not, Twins of Destiny will be continued alongside this new story. 

Night and Cain and Nanaki and Kef and I have spent countless hours discussing this continuum so that its full encompassment can be paralleled to that of the worlds of Tolkien or Jordan: fantasy worlds that you can become immersed in. 

Also, I realize that I've thrown out the words World of Imagination pretty liberally, assuming that you already understand what they mean. Looking to what my collaborators have written about it, I see a lot of "Ask Mox what this means." So, what better place to explain it than at the beginning of a new story? Of course, it's explained on my own personal website, but since no one wants to take the time to click and look, I may as well explain it again here. 

The World of Imagination takes its roots from when I started to refer to the Origin of Mount Woe while I was writing The Planeswalkers. I had always been fascinated by Nanaki's fics, and so when he let me tie into them, I jumped at the chance. All the events which take place in Zeal in The Planeswalkers, you'll notice, match up to the events in the Origin/Aftermath of Mount Woe. Then again, I doubt there's a person on this page who hasn't read those works, so if you're reading this and you read The Planeswalkers, you probably know what I'm talking about anyway. 

Through my writing of the Planeswalkers, I started to collaborate with another guy by the name of Nightsong. Some of you may not remember the time before he was a big-shot moderator on the forums and regular at the IRC meetings, but it was around then that we started to work together. Dark Angel took off around this time, with inspiration and concepts taken from both Nanaki and myself. Night and I then decided to just write our stories together when we discovered we had a lot of similar theories, anyway 

(the most notable being Chaos, a concept which we had created separately, our theories turning out to be nearly identical). 

Since I was working with Nanaki and Nightsong was working with me, Nanaki and Nightsong were sort of working together, too. I think I ended up getting credited with the creation of the World of Imagination because of this, but we'll say it was more a group effort. 

Skimming along, when I finished the Planeswalkers, Nanaki thought the LEA was a cool concept and asked me if he could play around with it. Of course I said yes and with Nanaki's use of my concepts, the worlds really ran together. Around then, Cain also joined up with us, Cain and I worked out some continuity issues, and the things gelled nicely. 

I should note that Cain and Nanaki write in _slightly_ alternate timelines, as they both use Magus in their differing fics. Other than that, since we were all using different characters, we avoided stepping on each others toes and used each _other's_ over-active imaginations to really flesh out the world. NeoKefka joined the ranks about six months later, his fic Kami Trigger bringing in more concepts and worlds to the Multiverse. 

Currently, the world is encompassed in nine different novels (complete and incomplete) spanning Chrono Trigger, Chrono Cross, Xenogears, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, and SaGa Frontier. We deal with an entire galaxy with governing bodies, culture, magic, war, and a history dating back to the Creation. The overriding forces that bear on our universe, Order and Chaos, the Ethereals and Dark Ethereals, are present in all our stories, and we proudly claim to the most developed fantasy world on Icy Brian's page. 

For the best understanding, you should probably read the stories in the following order, as this was the rough order in which the ideas were built on each other. The ones which slashes can be read in either order: 

1: Origin/Aftermath of Mount Woe 

2/3: The Planeswalkers/Chrono Continuum 

4: Dark Angel/Twins of Destiny 

5/6/7: Tempo Trigger/StarCrossed/Flames of Vengeance 

Well, I'm done for now, as its time to move on to the story. I hope that is helps add to your enjoyment of the universe that we have created (and entertains you a bit, as well). I know just telling you that it is going to be good won't really help, so just take my word for it and get on with reading it. The writing (getting better each day) hopefully speaks for itself. 

So get on with it! Go read! If you haven't read Dark Angel or Chrono Continuum, go read those too! All the books make more sense if you read them together, probably the best in the above listed order, so get reading! Until later, may you never hit writer's block and may your computer never crash, 

Peace Always, 

Mox 

  


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Flames of Vengeance Home To Forward ****


	2. Foreword

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** Forward**

** A Few Words on Chaos and The Multiverse**

How does one describe color to one who is blind? In a similar matter, how can one describe time to someone who cannot see it? 

Time is all around us. We feel it pass, we sense it is there, we sense our existence in it, but through all of this, the real notion of time eludes us. For we as humans to be able to visualize something such as time is as seemingly absurd as it is for a cartoon character to be able to visualize a world that is in three dimensions. It is alien to us, and so we have trouble describing it.

To aide in this understanding, I decided to write this little set of notes. This way, you can be clear on the terminology I (and the rest of the WoI) am using through the story.

This lack of ability to understand time is only aggravated by the fact that someone relatively new to time (only 18 years of it have passed me by) is trying to describe it. Readers, I understand quite well if you are lost: there are times when I write when I am quite lost myself. These moments of loss tend to come because I am a) trying to describe things in many more dimensions than we normally comprehend, and b) I can only draw two-dimensional representations of our six dimensional Multiverse. 

The Multiverse is, for all practical purposes, our way of explaining a six dimensional construct of a Universe. Yes, there is history behind it and yes, it is there to represent that every possible final outcome can be equally represented on a 6D scale, but in my opinion, its main purpose is to serve as a possible model of how things can be explained.

I'm going to skip that elementary stuff about dots and lines and what makes up the first three dimensions. You already knew that, right?

Now, I like to picture the forth dimension (Time) as a piece of string, and let's call that string a "Time Line" or "Time Stream." If you were to take a cross-section of that string at any given point, that would represent the _entirety_ of the three dimensional universe at that given point in time. Easy, right?

Next, assume that every time a point on that string in which multiple possibilities arise, the string splits, creating a new string so that each of the possibilities are expressed in the overall model. 

Of course, what ends up happening is that this string, which might start out as a single strand, will be splitting continuously at an exponent which is probably somewhere around infinity. As this string expands outward and continues to produces numerous strands, it forms somewhat of a web. It is this web that we like to call the Multiverse. 

Next: Planes of Existence, The fifth dimension. Remember how we took the cross-section of that piece of string and called it the three dimensional universe? Now consider different layers of existence within that cross section. This is a bit weird, as these layers overlap each other and exist simultaneously with each other (they share the same 3D and 4D locations). The difference is that they are located in different planar, or _fifth_ dimensional, locations.

What we have now is a multi-level, three dimensional world. The different levels of this three dimension world include the Physical Plane (physical level), the Astral Plane (spirit level), the Ethereal Plane (magic level), and numerous more which are not as important. Sometimes, these Planes come together naturally (such as when Ether "leaks" into the Physical Plane for use amongst sorcerers) or mechanically (such as when the LEA used Chaos-Engines to move their ships into the Outer-Planes for travel), but for the most part they remain separate for those who cannot see the difference.

Okay, now it gets kind of tricky. Each of these strands represents the five dimensions of a three-dimensional universe right? Because different strands will all be different in some form or another (this could be as negligible as a rock being out of place or as widespread as planets and empires not existing), the different strands are called "Parallel Dimensions" or "Alternate Dimensions." So when you look at two of them at once, you're looking at things in six dimensions. Ergo, we come to the Multiverse, which would then technically represent the total, six dimensional model of everything that could possibly come to pass. Neat, eh?

To confuse you even _more_, physicists have something called String Theory, which may or may not conflict what I've stated here. Lucky for you all, I intend to learn about this String Theory when I get a chance, so I can change even more stuff to try to be more scientifically correct. Good times.

All right, so you're down with this Multiverse stuff. So what the hell is the Nexus, right? And, while I'm at it, what on Terra is the Dagger's Edge? As it happens, this is real simple too. For all practical purposes, these guys are like the beginning and the end. The Nexus is the area where creation occurred and the Multiverse sprung outward. It's also where our notion of "Heaven" is, as well as all the Angels and Devils (which we call Ethereals and Dark Ethereals). The Dagger's Edge is the thin, barely-there barrier that exists between the farthest (though don't get tricked into thinking in 3D; this is actually measured in 4D) point the Multiverse has reached and the Chaos that lies beyond.

So now we get to the kicker, and as far as Planeswalkers and Lavoids are concerned, this is probably the most important thing.

Chaos.

I think I ended up confusing a lot of people with this, mostly because in the manner in which I integrated it, as well as it's similarity to Lavoid Energy.

Basically, Chaos is everywhere, just not _within_ these Planes of Existence. If you think of that web that we were talking about before, Chaos is everything that's _not_ a part of that web. Because the planes fall within the individual time streams, we call Chaos an "Extra-Planar" force because it exists outside of the planes. Easy, right?

Chaos is, as we've mentioned over and over, an extremely powerful source of energy because each molecule is moving with the highest randomness and highest kinetic energy value that it is capable of. Drawing on this power, if one can contain it, allows for manipulations of very powerful magic, but the only creatures that typically do that are the Planeswalkers and the Lavoids (containing it is another issue, measured by a Capacity Value, which is a comparative number when looking at power levels of Planeswalker and Lavoids).

These species include a segment in their DNA that codes for a structure in their cells called the Jurai Apparatus. It can be likened to chloroplasts in plants. The Jurai Apparatuses can absorb Chaos into the planes, store it, and convert it into raw energy. When it is released, it takes the form of either magic, or the Black Wings, which is an offshoot of Chaos or Lavoid Energy.

So how is Lavoid Energy different from Chaos? Basically, when the original Lavoids were created, the engineers gave them genetic limiters that prevented them from absorbing "Pure" Chaos. They thought that Chaos in its pure form gave the Lavoid too much power, and so they decided to keep that power in check.

To this day, all Lavoids but the Queens have these limiters in one form or another, placing a cap on the purity of the Chaos that their cells absorb. This "un-pure" Chaos is Lavoid energy. It is a result of the alteration of the energy within the cells of the Lavoid, making it less potent. A mid level Class A might be able to express 90% pure Chaos, while a Class D might only be able to express 20% pure Chaos. Basically, the stronger classes are partially so because they can express Chaos more purely.

Planeswalkers and the Lavoid Queens don't have such limiters (though it is hypothesized that the six "Lesser Queens" can only channel about 99.98% pure chaos, the small margin allowing the Queen Mother to maintain a power edge). That means when a Planeswalker casts full force spell of Chaos, that's _pure_ Chaos, which is why it's used to overpower most of the upper-level Lavoids (who can't channel _pure_ Chaos).

For another point, Chaos, Black Magic and Shadow Magic are three _different_ things. I know at the very least Cain was confused by this, and so I suspect that lesser mortals would be, too. It goes back to that whole structure of the Multiverse, so I'll touch on it. Again, the problem sort of comes by trying to visualize it in three dimensions, but we're going to try and deal with this.

First off we need a clear definition of what Shadow Magic is. Shadow Magic, sticking to the traditional Chrono Trigger view, is a combination of all the other forms of Elemental Magic: Fire, Water, Lightning, Earth, Wind and Time. On the other end of Shadow is Holy magic, which is simply a combination in different proportions (Shadow is more Fire, Water and Lightning, Holy is more Earth, Wind and Time). Shadow Magic is an Ethereal Magic, and as such, is Order Based. That is, it comes in the form of Winds that stem from the Order and move through the Ethereal Plane. Where the Ethereal Plane leaks into the Physical Plane we see stronger flows of the Winds. Where there are no nearby leakages, the Winds flow weakly. Shadow Magic's Wind is sometimes called the Black Wind, and it is rare for a magic user to be able to sense it, let alone feel it. Certain cultures associate bad omens with the Black Wind.

Black Magic has nothing to do with Shadow Magic, Order, or the Winds. Black Magic draws from beings of a higher power: the Dark Ethereals. By using some of the power from the Dark Ethereals, mages can create spells that are much more powerful than simple elemental spells. If you look at the incantation for the Dragon Slave, you see the pledge to the particular Dark Ethereal that the caster is drawing power from:

"Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows, buried in the stream of time is where your power flows. I pledge my self to conquer all the foes that stand before the mighty gift bestowed in my unworthy hand. May the fools who stand before me be destroyed by the power that you and I possess. Dragon Slave!"

"Darkness beyond twilight" and "Crimson beyond blood that flows" describe the Dark Ethereal and the "mighty gift" is the power that the Dark Ethereal is lending. Of a similar vein, There is also White Magic (different from Holy Magic) that draws from the Ethereals. Black Magic typically revolves around attack and destruction while White Magic typically revolved around healing, restoration, and exorcism. Duh.

Lastly, again, Chaos Magic has nothing to do with Shadow Magic, Order, or the Winds, either. Since we define magic by where it comes from, Chaos Magic is a derivation of Black Magic, that is, it draws energy from an source outside of the Planes. Black Magic draws it from the Nexus (Where the Ethereals and Dark Ethereals are) and Chaos Magic draws it from just that: Chaos. Because of this, Black Magic and Chaos Magic are sometimes called extra-planar forces or extra-planar magic.

Well, that about wraps it up. If something regarding all these wacky planes and magic sources confuses you, please write to me and allow me to explain it. A good 95% of the time I actually have something worked out. As for that other five percent…well, I can fake it and you'll never know the difference. The one thing that I ask as an author is that you as readers take into consideration the fact that there will inevitably be discontinuities between my stories and the other stories in the World of Imagination. Given the unfortunate fact that we were not writing together from the start, some differences were unavoidable. Now, I'm not going to point them out; that would just be foolish. However, we're sadly not perfect and don't always communicate perfectly. Key point here: don't be Paul Nathans. Compliments to Paul for having the keen sense of when something doesn't fit, but there are some things which were destined to not work out.

Example: in The Planeswalkers, I ran with the ending of Chrono Trigger that involved crashing the Epoch into Lavos, where as Cain assumed a different ending. Both endings were crucial to the individual plot lines and both endings had been picked before we were working in collaboration. The "Different Time Line" excuse works for this one, but sadly it doesn't work for every other one. Enjoy what we _did_ pull together: not what was overlooked due to various reasons. All an all, everyone will be more happy this way. Now, with these mundane explanations aside, I present without further ado: Flames of Vengeance: Symphony of Chaos.

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To Notes Flames of Vengeance Home To Prologue ****


	3. Prologue

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**Prologue**

In the beginning, all was Chaos…or so the Legend goes.

What really makes a Legend, though, and what makes myth, and what makes fact? Where in history do we really know anything that has passed if it is no longer there to prove its own existence? Can anything that has happened really be proven if it is lost to the fabric of time? And, if we never know what happened, can we protect ourselves from it happening again?

History always repeats itself. To understand why the fighters fight and the watchers watch, we much understand what drives the fighter and the watcher. What does the fighter fight for, or the watcher watch? What caused everything to be the way it is, and more importantly, will history ever be able to wretch itself from the continuing circle that it has locked itself into? The threat is always there…but why? To begin to understand, the only thing we can go to is Legend.

In the beginning, all was Chaos. 

It was after this that the Ethereal's gave form to the world and life sprung forth on the planet Terra. Terra in turn gave birth to a race of explorers and inventors that would spell eventual doom for themselves. They were called humans, and for the rest of history, they would be their own undoing. For it was humans, in the effort to further conquer the planets within their reach, which tapped into Chaos and created the Lavoids: the Ultimate weapon of mass destruction.

Wait…no…it didn't start there. There was something before the humans. The humans did _not_ create the Lavoids. Something else came before and ravaged the galaxy before the humans and the Lavoids. We must look further back…

.

Those who came before the humans would _set_ the stage for the Lavoids. While the exact names of the species have been lost to lore long ago, those few who remember call them the Sraphites and the Draconians. Millennia ago, they, like most species that had reached the ability for astral supremacy, wanted power, and this power could only come by conquering the other species. While the creation of the power that they tapped is unknown in its origin, it was the Sraphites that doomed the rest of time.

Using all the knowledge that they had been gained through their eons of sentience, as well as harvesting the powers of species that they had contacted, the Sraphites created an artificial strain of genetic material. This artificial DNA included a new set of genes which gave those who wielded them the ability to draw energy from Chaos, the Plane of Existence that gives tremendous power and brings horrible destruction. They used this DNA to modify soldiers into super-beings capable of destruction that far outstripped anything that the Draconians could fight against.

The Draconians tried to fight, but it was in vain. The new species of soldiers with the power of Chaos was too powerful to stop. In less than ten years, the Draconians were nearly extinct, their far-reaching galactic empire destroyed. Such power comes at a price, however, and the price was something which the Sraphites were eventually forced to pay.

The new biological weapons decided that they were too powerful to be controlled by anyone; they should start a new empire on their own. They turned on the Sraphites and began to enact a reign of terror. The Sraphites formed a last alliance with the remains of the Draconians and they went into a colossal battle with their own creations. In the end, they were able to put down the usurpers, but they became nearly a dead species in the process. The first insurrection of the servants of Chaos had been put down, but at the cost of two species which had held such immense power before. Surly, no one in the future would attempt to tame Chaos again for their own purposes…

.

Decades passed into centuries…centuries passed into millennia. It was now when Terra began to spew forth the bounty of life that was the human race, and it was greed that was the undoing of the humans, for they desired nothing more than power over others. First, they conquered the others on their own planet. Then, they spread their influence to the stars. Along with the growing span of their empire and their growing control over technology, their yearn for the domination of everything in their sway required the creation of a weapon which could destroy beyond the capacity of any other weapon created in history. 

Hold on…no…that's wrong also. See how time sometimes plays tricks? There was another force that was inserted into that equation before the humans reached the stars…and he was called Zohar.

.

It was discovered in the year 2001. It was an object in the shape of an eye found in a geological stratum in Kenya dating 3.9 billion years old. The shape of the object suggested that it was possibly an artificial creation, and special research laboratories were set up to study it. Before long, the discovery of the object was announced to the world. It was found that this object, after measuring its age, was approximately 15 billion years old and had existed at its place of discovery in space long before the world came to existence.

The revelation of the Object's age only increased the confusion into an epic proportion. If the Object was not a thing of artificial creation, then it might be from the realm of God. Because the Object had a considerable amount of magnetic property and emanated a strong magnetic field, it was called "MAM" (magnetic abnormal material) for convenience's sake. The analysis of the Object was conducted at an international scale. Eventually, though, research plans face a budget problem and only analytical work was continued in detail within the hands of voluntary researchers. Before long, these private researchers gave it another name: Zohar. 

Interesting things began to happen after the discover of Zohar, however. Humans began to gain knowledge at a much faster rate. They began to 'see' things more clearly, and the invention of faster-than-light travel came to be. They _then_ were able to extend to the stars and reach other planets, making colonies…forming empires. It was all because of some interesting influence that Zohar was having on the population of Terra. Something, or someone, was affecting them.

What they knew about Zohar was that there was an extreme amount of energy that could be harnessed from it. In fact, if the proper engines were constructed which could draw directly from whatever source Zohar was, scientists even dabbled in the concept of the Infinity Drive, where power did not have a limit, it simply increased exponentially. What they did not know about Zohar was it was actually nothing more than a method of travel for something else.

The Wave Existence, while given the name by those who didn't really understand it, was a member of a four dimensional species called the Finori. This particular Finori, whose name happened to be Zohar, had used the MAM to anchor himself into this Plane of Existence. He came from another time in another timestream where there was much war, and his mission in this stream was to see that the same wars never came to be. Unfortunately, he actually caused the creation of something: the same exact evil that rampaged through his dimension. 

Zohar had somewhat of an educating effect on the population of Terra. As they began to learn things, they began to learn about drawing on his supply of energy and making space ships powered by it. They soon stretched passed the bounds of the atmosphere and began to explore the stars.

It was in their travels of the stars that something that should have never been found was discovered; a relic from the past that time itself should have eliminated. It was a space station of sorts, remnants of the Sraphite Empire. And, in this space station, the seeds for the destruction of the galaxy were once again found: genetic remnants of the biological super weapons which the Sraphites had created and destroyed those countless eons ago. The humans had discovered the artificial DNA which gifted the power of Chaos.

It was when some of the colonies started to rebel that the humans, existing in a domain which they called Galactic Federation, were given the need to use this gift that they had found. They would make a weapon, and it would be powered by Chaos, the unlimited energy source whose origin and nature was largely both misunderstood and underestimated. They would build this weapon with the wondrous genetic material which they had found amongst the Sraphite ruins. 

Thus set the stage for the ultimate creation of the Federation. A biological weapon the likes of which its enemies could never stand up against, or even expect in the first place. It would be the ultimate weapon. A source of unequaled power equipped to destroy entire worlds with merely one of their numbers. 

It was to be based on Human DNA (Humans, already thinking themselves the perfect creation of the Gods), genetically altered with the newly discovered genes to give them the powers of destruction. As such, the living weapon was disturbingly human in form, aside from pigmentation of skin and slight bone structure difference. More elaborate distinctions from Humans only came as the species evolved. The Project was named "Lavoid," taken from the old language meaning "Being of Fire," and it would be the bane of humanity.

In the lab, the fetus of a human female was genetically spliced to include the set of genes which became known as the Lavoid Factor. The absorbing of Chaos energy began almost instantaneously, and the growth of the young Lavoid proceeded rapidly. 

The first of the Lavoids was called, Pyriorias, the Queen. She, achieving sentience far quicker than anyone could have anticipated, drew on her knowledge of Chaos and the unknown, and made Contact with it. The connection transformed her mind and body, twisting her against the will of her creators. She became Chaos incarnate: a creation of utter evil. It was she who gave birth to the others.

The Lavoids lived with the humans for years, fulfilling their roles as the super-soldiers they were designed as. All the while, though, Pyriorias searched for a way to get the humans to remove the genetic limiters they had all been given as a fail safe. She wanted to free her children from the control of the humans completely.

Using her influence and magic, Pyriorias arranged the largest rebellion of a fringe world in the history of the Federation. The attacks came from not only humans, but other alien species as well. The humans, their own troops not being able to move fast enough to combat the threat, had no choice but to fully utilize the power of their creations. After performing a few deeds in good faith, such as placing Time Bubbles around test worlds, Pyriorias convinced the humans to remove the genetic limiters.

With their powers fully utilizable, the Lavoids decimated the rebellions. With their new freedom, though, they finally turned on their creators. Together they ravaged Terra for all it was, for once again those of Chaos could not be controlled. The Fall of Terra marked the end of the First Age, and humans fled the planet in search of a new home. Terra became called Lost Jerusalem, the Gem of the Galaxy that was lost to the humans forever after. History had repeated itself.

.

Humans somehow managed to survive, fleeing from the growing population of Lavoids that had begun to disperse through the Galaxy. The humans found new places to dwell and formed new political organizations to govern themselves. The evil of the Lavoids seemed to temporarily flee into the shadows, hiding from human society until the time was right. People forgot about the beings of Chaos. Those who had started and completed Project Lavoid eventually died, and the knowledge of what the Lavoids were was lost to the ages. Along with the loss of this knowledge, however, came the loss of awareness of a test that had been orchestrated along with the start of the project...

.

It began in the year 1999 ES on a planet called Elosia, a backwater, nothing planet in a northern arm of the galaxy. While this planet had been simply an experiment, it ended up producing more individuals with farther reaching influence than any other planet in the history. It was here that the insurrection started. It was here that the fight against the Lavoids had begun…

The existence of the Lavoid Exterminatorum Adeptus has passed into nothing more than legend now, and those who were alive to remember it are few and far between. Nothing has had more of an impact on the history of the Galaxy, though, than the group of individuals who stood up tall and tried to shake the heavens from the grasps of the spawn of Chaos.

It was at the dawn of the third age that Lathain of Zeal, from the Planet Elosia, discovered the plot of the Lavoids with the aid of the Marda, the Airia from the Beginning of Time. Lathain saw that this could not be tolerated and set out on a crusade to rid the galaxy of these despicable beings. But, Lavoids are not so easily disposed of, and Lathain had to deal with problems of his own existence as well.

Given the name Jack McKlane by the foster parents that discovered him (after he had been thrown fourteen thousand years into the future by the Lavoid that would wrest control of his home planet of Elosia), Lathain was what those of learned decent call a Elijiahian. A Planeswalker. He was the immortal, human offspring of a Lavoid whom had fertilized a human female using the power of Chaos. Because of this, he was given great gifts of power, but also a great burden. Lathain took it upon himself to create a group of those willing to fight against the Lavoids, and he set out in his starship, the Weatherlight, to build his army.

Since he could travel through time at will (a gift of the ability to manipulate Chaos), he had the time stream working in his favor. He could construct his fleet within a bubble in time, so that no real time was lost in its creation. Traveling with his fleet to the stars, he began to find those willing to fight by his side against the evil powers of the Lavoids. 

The young man named his army the Lavoid Exterminatorum Adeptus, or, Those who Excel in the Killing of Lavoids. It became known commonly as the LEA, referred to by political bodies as the Lavoid Extermination Agency. With the LEA, he recruited those who hated the Lavoids as much as he, and he began the process of killing them one by one. 

As the influence of the LEA spread, Lathain came into contact with a new intergalactic political body that was called the Sol Dominion and had existed through the last fifteen hundred years or so. Their ruler was one Emperor Cain, and he held his rule with an army of magical beings called the Wanderers. Lathain used the Sol Dominion and Cain in order to learn what he could about the Galaxy, and to assess the threat of the Lavoids over the span of its breadth. As he had feared, the threat was great, and action needed to be taken quickly. 

It was in his travels that he came into contact with two others of his kind on a planet known as Celes. They were called Tyrion and Teclis, twins of the Queen of the Nation of Ithilmar, the nation who served the Lavoid Geminus. The hope of being able to release these two of his brothers brought his full attention to this new planet. He sent an agent of the Watchers, his organization for recruiting, to try to gain the confidence and allegiance of these new Planeswalkers.

He also learned that on this planet was the source of a mineral called Crystain.

Crystain was a bluish crystal found only in the seas of Celes. Due to its peculiar properties, it naturally existed in both the Natural and Ethereal planes in a given point in space. Fundamentally, it could alter the physical nature of a piece of matter, forcing it to exist in the ethereal plane as well as the physical plane. These Ethereal weapons, called Phase Swords or Astral Weapons, turned out to be an extremely effective form of killing Lavoids; in striking down their ethereal body, one could bypass their natural resistances to physical damage. Also, it was found that Crystain could be ground down into a power, put through a complex series of reactions, then melted, to form a substance called ARG-71. This substance is _extremely _ lethal to all creatures that are based on Lavoid Energy, the energy of processed Chaos.

Using this knowledge to his advantage, Lathain got Geminus to lead one of his subordinates into giving Lathain the two Planeswalkers, Tyrion and Teclis. The subordinate, also a Planeswalker, then held Tyrion and Teclis captive as a bargaining chip. Only when Lathain confronted the Dark Planeswalker in single combat was the first threat removed. The LEA then dumped massive amounts of Crystain into Geminus's cavern forcing him to surface. Once vulnerable, Lathain used a new spell called a Lavoid Slave in order to completely eradicate the beast. Celes was saved, and it became the operation headquarters of the LEA. There, they controlled the mining of Crystain and continued their crusade against the Lavoids.

Four years following this, Lathain came across another Planeswalker in the Alpha Quadrant of the Dominion by the name of Andurion. He somehow seemed to elude the control of his parent Lavoid and was discovered selling his skills as an assassin. Lathain, in his quest to gain the loyalty of Andurion ended up getting the LEA caught in a war with a group of Union Terrorists (calling themselves the Free Peoples Union) that had long been making a terror attacks on various targets in the Dominion. As Lathain got drawn into the matter, he discovered that The Free Peoples Union was actually an underground cult of Lavoid worshipers dedicated to Andurion's parent Lavoid, Aryell. He had used his influence on Andurion to play the pawns of the organization to his whim. Lathain brought this to light, destroyed the cult, and Andurion joined the growing Planeswalker Council as the LEA went on in its crusade.

In the next decade, Lathain later discovered the last Planeswalker that would make up the Planeswalker Council. He was a prince of a magical kingdom called Arinthir in the year 2014 ES. His name was Elithor, and much like Lathain's original birthplace, this kingdom was a plaything of the Lavoid that rested within the Planet. Elithor, along with a following of young companions, discovered the existence of the Lavoid but were nearly killed when trying to fight it. The Lavoid then surfaced and annihilated Arinthir, a seemingly déjà vu experience that haunted Lathain deeply. He personally descended to the planet and killed the Lavoid, inviting Elithor to take a place on the path to killing more Lavoids then his young mind could hope for. Elithor, a man who reminded Lathain much of himself, became a powerful ally.

It was only a few hundred years later in the year 2434 ES that the quest was brought to a temporary halt by the growing fear of Emperor Cain. Seeing that the LEA was becoming too powerful, he felt that they needed to be put down. The war between the LEA and the Sol Dominion started when Cain ordered to open fire on an LEA Warship. Lathain, not taking such effrontery lightly, vowed to reduce the Dominion to rubble in revenge.

The quest against the Lavoids was put on hold as Lathain, though far outnumbered, began to lead a war against the Sol Dominion and the armies of Emperor Cain. The Dominion was a large place, and the LEA was but a small force in comparison to the legions of the Dominion, but the better trained forces of the Exterminatorum Adeptus proved to be more than a match for any Imperial soldier. 

The LEA laid siege on Nova, the capital of the Dominion. Entire cities were completely razed and billions were killed. The entire Planeswalker Council descended to the planet and entered the Imperial Palace. There, they engaged in a brutal battle with the Wanderers that guarded Cain. The Wanderers, though, as powerful as they were, could not stop the combined might of the Council. Lathain then personally tore out the heart of Cain's only Son, Karius. Cain was in the throne room, his last bastion of safety, when Lathain marched in and tossed the boy's heart into the Emperor's lap. No words were even exchanged in the meeting, as Lathain of Zeal's actions were typically above that of words. Only a glance from the Planeswalker was enough to push the Dominion into surrender. The LEA left Nova, leaving the Dominion to rebuild itself from the ashes. They trusted that never again would their wrath be incurred by the foolish humans.

And so the crusade continued, and the Lavoids continued to fall. All the while, the LEA began to march towards Terra, the origin of the beasts and the home of the First Queen. It was in the year 2981 ES that the war that the LEA had hoped for finally broke out: a civil war between the Forces of Chaos in which Lavoid killed Lavoid and no innocent casualties were ever lost. The civil war raged for three hundred years, oscillating from periods of minor skirmishes to all out battle. The LEA helped both sides, selling Crystain weapons to both ends of the fighting. The casualties rose, and the Exterminatorum Adeptus became assassins for higher, always eager to take a job for either side. As long as the spawn of Chaos fell, then the result was one of success.

The war raged until both sides had exhausted their available resources, and the LEA decided that it was finally time to strike. The fleet moved to Terra, where Lathain planned on using the immense amount of Chaos energy natural to the planet in order to spark a chain reaction that would tear through Chaos itself, annihilating all beings which absorbed Chaos energy in the specific pattern that the Lavoids did (the synthesis pattern by which Lavoids absorb Chaos is thought to be the cause of their abnormal behavior). It would be the final gamble.

His ships circled Terra in the year 3426 ES; the war was finally almost over. This would be the last stand and the galaxy would finally be rid of the menace which had reigned for nearly 3500 years over its helpless inhabitants. All of the energy flows were in place for him to cast the ultimate spell with the amplified power of Planeswalker Council. 

The Mera Flux. The final spell. While simple in concept, the most powerful spell in Chaos Magic simply sank everything in the target region into the Plane of Chaos, where the energies of evil would instantly destroy it. Lathain would be combining it with a Mako Bomb, or, an explosion of pure Lifestream energy that a planet uses as a measure of last defense when its natural weapons fail it. It was designed as a failsafe, so that everything on the planet could start over. The energy created by it was enough to form a dimensional shift, and Lathain had hypothesized that if one could initiate it, the energies meshed with that of the Chaos Dimension would cause the temporal and dimensional chain reaction that he hoped for. The math had all been worked out. The only thing that was not taken into consideration was the randomizing effect that comes from emotion…

In a skirmish in the atmosphere above Terra, Lathain's wife Sarah was killed, carrying with her Lathain's first child. The loss of his family instantly outweighed all other loss that he had felt through his 1500 years of life. The Legend says that he sacrificed himself in order to revenge the loss, but others argue that he simply went insane. Either way, the consequences rang through the rest of time.

While in a state of emotional confusion, Lathain went ahead with his plan to set off the chain reaction that would purify the galaxy of the Lavoids. Gathering together with him the other four Planeswalkers of the Council, he evacuated the Weatherlight and began to pilot it by himself on a crash course into Terra. As the ship entered the atmosphere, Lathain completed the casting of the spell as the others amplified his magical energy with their powers. They say that the Weatherlight itself expressed the Black Wings as Jack competed his mission with the casting of the Mera Flux. At the same time, the attack which he planned to set off the Mako Bomb resolved, and the two masses of energy came together and swept across both time and space. Those who remember the day, and could see the time stream, say that it was if an infinite number of cries echoed out as the energy tore through Chaos. And then, as quickly as the energy had come, all was quiet.

Lathain had been mistaken in his calculations though. Perhaps it was the anger with which had cast the spell, but something had gone wrong. True to his expectations, the spell and chain reaction had dutifully wiped the galaxy clean of all Lavoids, but it had also purged _anything_ containing Chaos Energy as well. The surge had ripped through the LEA Fleet, all of who's ships were powered by Chaos, and it had ripped through all of the Adeptus themselves, who's own bodies were saturated in the energy due to prolonged exposure. It destroyed the other Planeswalkers, who's DNA caused them to absorb Chaos naturally. In fact, it tore through Lathain himself, his own energies racking through his body and ending his life mere milliseconds after he had completed the spell. The space above Terra became quiet, all objects and beings existing there having been removed from this Plane of Existence. The Lavoids and the LEA had been destroyed, and in the long run, the only thing that was powerful enough to kill Lathain of Zeal was, in fact, Lathain of Zeal.

But there was a faint twinkle somewhere in the heart of Terra. _Something_ had survived the blast, and would go on to see the next day. It was Pyriorias herself. The Queen. She was still alive. Her empire and children had all been destroyed, but the Mother lived, and would go on living indefinitely. What Lathain had never considered was that you cannot kill Chaos with Chaos, as that was all a Lavoid Queen was. She was Chaos Incarnate. A creation of utter evil. 

So the LEA fell back into the non-existence from which it had sprung. The Second Age ended when Terra fell to the Lavoids for the second time. It was aptly called the Second Fall, the Fall of Terra, and the Fall of the Lavoid Exterminatorum Adeptus. 

One might say that the Lavoids had been almost completely destroyed, and this was benign, but there was suddenly no one to perform the Time Seal, and the work could be so easily undone. Pyriorias could so quickly go through time and revive the lost Lavoids, giving them back their strands in the stream of time. She could instantly restore her children, and those who had tried to fight her would remain dead. Lavoid Queens, however, do not always have such clear passages of thought.

She _did_ go back and bring back some of her children, but not all of them. Perhaps it was about half of the numbers that had existed before. Something in Pyriorias decided to admit defeat to an extent, and so she felt that the efforts of the LEA should not be completely undone. There was some honor in not staining the life of Lathain, and making the sacrifice completely in vain. Honor…in the end, it was the Lavoid that expressed it greatest of all. Legend, it would seem, can be ironic.

.

There were some that had survived the Second Fall, and it was seemingly against all odds. The child which Sarah bore did not seem to die. In fact, it was rescued and brought to a place of safety. There it would grow and ponder its fate.

Other decedents of the Planeswalker bloodlines did not appear to all die, either. There were five bloodlines in all, and at least one member of each of these families lived on, most being small children. Even the Marda at the Beginning of Time cannot explain why these children were spared the wrath of Chaos. Again, perhaps Pyriorias deemed that children should not be sacrificed, and she herself protected them. The minds of Lavoids work in mysterious ways, and they are not nearly as one-tracked as Lathain had originally predicted. In fact, it would seem that the Mother of all Evil was not so evil at all…

.

And so story faded into Legend, Legend into Myth, and Myth into Nothing. The LEA became nothing more than a bed time story which mothers told their children, and the relics of the once great army were lost to time and Chaos. The Children that were spared of the Second fall continued to grow and reach maturity, and eventually began to learn about their past. Their gifts included what still remained in the somewhat diluted bloodlines of the Planeswalker Council, and the gift would always include the genes of the Lavoid; the Blood of the Cursed. Forever they would bare the burden of being part of the thing which they had an instinctual desire to destroy. They would forever feel the winds of Chaos blow and sense the flow of five dimensions. The Black Wings would forever flutter in the unseen breeze for those descendants of the LEA. Such was their gift. Such was their burden. Such was what made them who they were, and such was what made them what they would become.

* * *

To Forward Flames of Vengeance Home To Next Chapter ****


	4. Chapter 1

****

**Chapter 1**

**The Test of Time**

_Even those versed in Time Travel do not always like to use it. The ability to go back in time and alter things as they once were is an extremely dangerous tool, and even in aiming to do good, one might go so far as to undo their own existence. The slightest change, as minute as it may seem, can have catastrophic effects when the ripple is chased down the timeline. Planeswalkers, Eternals, and [for the most part] even the Lavoids all stay away from the deadly trap that is temporal manipulation. Only those who can see into the future readily and grasp the effects of an alteration should be the ones who ever dabble in the strain of time, and even those few beings should be careful... _

-_A guide to Temporal Manipulation, byTeclis Spelmen_

.

Time moved funny, today. Actually, the word today never really works when talking about the flow of time, as any moment one looks at time, one does so from outside the _flow_ of time. So there really wasn't a 'today' in looking into time, just a 'now.'

'Now' was the time of the Sol Dominion. The LEA was long since gone, as it had been for nearly 1500 years. The Dominion's power, while slightly conflicted with that of the Planetary Union, had been rebuilt to the height before the war with the LEA. The Lavoids had ceased to be a major threat, as they had yet gained enough courage to come back out from hiding. The LEA had taught them that they were not invulnerable…even if there were only less than two-dozen beings in the universe that could still perform a Time Seal. The Lavoids were no longer threatened, though, as they had been. They were just bidding their time.

The Galactic Power that was the Dominion had the ruling sway over about two thirds of all the planets in the Explored Sectors (it had once been _all_ of the planets in the Explored Sectors, but that was before the Union broke away). Yet even without the LEA, the Dominion had other problems to worry about. While Jack McKlane was out of the picture, the Union was getting antsy. Cain had also never given up his desire to gain back the space he lost when the Union seceded (while the Dominion was weakened from the war with the LEA). To go along with this, there was growing motion the Senate of the Union to go to war, as well. The Galaxy, Lavoids or not, was teetering on the edge of civil war. The next few months would probably determine the fate of the Dominion for the rest of time.

Yet, despite the major powers that were verging on clashing, the fate of the galaxy really laid in the hands of maybe twenty or so individuals who possessed the power to alter the course of things on their own. It is these individuals whose actions would be the cause of the major events that would occur in the Dominion and the Union. There would be war, and there would be death, and then there would be anarchy, and all would be because of the few, not the many. Fate, it could be said, was funny in that aspect.

Regardless, time _did_ flow funny, now. There was something on the horizon that was causing peculiar buckles in the continuum. Usually this meant that a series of events that were about to occur bore an extreme importance to the continuum itself. The kinks in the stream normally made this harder to see. True, there were very few prophets left in the world, and there were possibly even _fewer_ Planeswalkers. The Lavoids had learned that Planeswalkers were not such a good thing, so few produced them anymore. On top of that, the blood of the remaining lines was running thin. All had gone through at least four generations since the Second Fall except for the Zealian line.

Then there was Duncan McKlane. The last remaining of the High Elijiaians: those of birth from a Planeswalker and an Epitorum. He was bidding his time as well, along with the Lavoids. He still had his own agenda. He would kill Pyriorias and find vengeance for the death of his parents. And, as he is one of the few left to sway the power of the universe on his own, he will be the focus of this tale… 

.

Duncan stared blankly out of the portal window, gazing into structure of the Multiverse itself in a manner practiced only by the gifted minority. It was the gift given to him by his mother, Sarah Inverse McKlane, the Epitorum of Elosia. He had been blessed (or cursed) with the ability to read the outcomes of things before they occurred. Again, as time was moving oddly now, this ability did not provide such clear sight, but Duncan knew that something was about to happen. Something was wobbling on the edge of the proverbial fence that was caught in a decision of whether or not to alter the entire course of history. 

He a stood a good few inches above six feet, his face almost elfish in appearance; it's gentle features, high cheek bones, and pale color were brought out more by a pair of deep set, dark amethyst eyes. He knew that the mark of the Zealian line was the coloration in his eyes, and sometimes it was better to hide such distinguishing features. To do this, he often hid his eyes with a pair of jet black sunglasses. His hair, the mark of his species, was spiky and blue, cut short in the back (unlike his father, he thought, who liked to let it run long). 

The paleness of his face contrasted starkly to the blackness of the rest of his clothing. His clothing of choice, a black leather trench coat, (Tristan gave it to him, didn't he?) stretched to his feet, covering up his black pants and the body armor. Various straps and buckles ran around his torso and legs, the various equipment being the sign of someone who carries his entire life along with him in his never ending travels in space. This was a man who had no home.

Duncan McKlane: the son of Jack McKlane and Sarah Inverse McKlane. He sometimes struggled to remember what they looked like (he had only seen pictures). Someone had told him once that he had his mothers' nose, but it was very clear to him that he had his father's eyes. They would forever be the eyes of the Zealian bloodline; the one they said was cursed. One thing that he had from both his parents, though, was his power. That was what struck fear into the hearts of those around him. Duncan McKlane. The Black Winged Angel of Death. The Knight of Chaos. The Lavoid Bane.

He inherited the second name from his father. Jack had given him that much: a reputation. There wasn't a Lavoidian Creature in the universe that didn't know his name. In fact, he had been told that there was actually a rhyme about him among Lavoid hives.

Don't be Lame Or life he'll claim Fear Duncan McKlane 

_The Lavoid Bane_

Duncan had never heard the rhyme, but the man he was standing with could attest to its existence. From behind, they dressed as twins. His acquaintance also garbed himself in pure black, his coat slightly different, as it was made of metal, but the shine could not be seen unless there was great light around them. Such were the properties of Shardsteel, and such was the worth of the coat that the man had killed, inadvertently or not, millions in order to get it. He had long blonde hair, tied in a pony tail that stretched down the length of his back.

Lucent Mazer was one of the few people that Duncan would privately admit to not being stronger than. His ego would prevent him from ever openly confessing that Lucent was probably more powerful, though he used his power in different ways. Other than Lucent, Duncan could only number about half of the other remaining Eternals as his 'equals.' The only other things left that were close were the Lavoid Queens. That, ironically, was Duncan's biggest issue.

The problem with Lavoid Queens is that they can't be killed by conventional means. You see, even a Planeswalker dies if you cut off its head. Not the Queens, though. They never died. Their tolerance for magical energy surpassed even the Eternals. Whereas Eternals were capable of killing each other using their energies, Lavoid Queens aren't even capable of that. Magic doesn't kill them. In all essence, they _are_ magic. They are Chaos given form.

Duncan had almost killed _one_ in his fifteen hundred of years in existence. Granted, if assisted by the Eternals, he would have killed them all by now, but those fickle folk have certain qualms with interfacing directly with reality. Duncan, like his Father, had called them cowards for it. It is incredible that such a word as coward could provoke such powerful beings into action.

That's how it was with Lucent. To be called a coward by a child (as that was what Duncan was at the time) was something that Lucent Mazer, the most apathetic of all Eternals, couldn't stand. The fact that Lucent trained him as a result leads some historians to think that Duncan knew what he was getting into all the time, and that for the first time in existence, an Eternal had been played to the whim of a mortal. Duncan was, after all, a prophet.

Then again, Duncan wasn't exactly a mortal. Neither was any Planeswalker for that matter. While he was as susceptible to death by harm as any other, death by age does not come to those that call themselves by that name. As such, it was death by harm that killed all the others. That was what killed the LEA, the Planeswalker Council, and all the rest. Not only that, but it was death by Chaos, and _that_ was perhaps the worst way to go. 

Duncan never knew how he survived, or even exactly what had happened. It wasn't until he grew powerful enough to peer back in time that he saw what his father had tried to do. That was before everything went to hell. He could still never clearly see exactly what Pyriorias had done to them, nor why the plan hadn't worked. It didn't matter. As long as Pyriorias still walked the Multiverse, Duncan would hunt her down and rip the still beating heart out of her chest. 

It didn't help that she was possibly the most powerful of the Lavoid Queens- the _first_ Lavoid Queen- but he would do it. Such was his quest, and such was his burden.

Lucent, it seemed, was just along for the ride. Eternals have a different thought process to humans and Planeswalkers. Their manner of thinking doesn't always make sense to species that haven't existed since the dawn of the Multiverse. Maybe Lucent got a kick out the kid (kid only being a relative term, as Lucent was millions of years old as opposed to Duncan's mere many hundreds) and the frenzy he sometimes got whipped into. Lucent always was slightly interested in humans. He found them funny. It was perhaps due to this interest that he became involved with the cross-bred humans known as the Planeswalkers. As his father had before him, Duncan intrigued Lucent for reasons that he strove to fight against something that seemed unbeatable.

Jack may have been on the right track when he organized a group large and powerful enough to be able to kill Lavoids and perform a Time Seal fast enough to prevent the nearest Queen from reviving them. Duncan took a different approach. He knew that as organizations grew, so did the room for corruption. Duncan would not risk that. He was a solo act, per say. He killed Lavoids on his own, as he saw fit, and he liberated the worlds that he so chose. There was no such benign motive as to free the galaxy from the Lavoids (as Jack had supposedly claimed). Duncan was simply out for their blood.

"Will you be off again, soon?" Lucent asked him as they stared out of the portal window. "Off to kill again?"

"There's a Class A nearby," Duncan said, taking off his sunglasses and putting them into an inner pocket in his coat. "Maybe only a few hours travel in sub-space."

"Any reason why this one in particular?" Lucent asked. Duncan remained silent for a moment. 

"I'm worried about Celes," he finally said. "There's been too much exchange of control over the planet. The Dominion is up to something. Crystain mining is increasing, and that means there are more things in the galaxy that can kill me. _That_ I do not like."

"I guess you wouldn't know what it feels like to have _nothing_ in the Multiverse that can kill you?" Lucent jibbed sarcastically. A smirk grew on his face. Slowly he removed his glasses, revealing a pair of deep green eyes that sparkled with the essence of Lifestream infusion.

"I can't simply end the mining of Crystain," Duncan said. "I need it myself, after all. It does worry me, though, when any provisional police force can have Crystain weapons for dealing with something like me."

"You're getting paranoid in your old age," Lucent responded. "Even without manipulating Chaos, you're faster than anything I've seen in awhile." He looked at the blue haired man. "Don't complain so much." 

"Thank you, I guess," Duncan said, closing his eyes. "The substance still worries me. The market for it is growing too quickly. That means that weapons manufacturers are finding more uses for it. Uses that even _I _don't know, perhaps."

"I'll speak with Lucia for you. She's the weapon woman, after all. Perhaps she knows something." Lucent paused, then looked at Duncan. "You're not actually scared, are you?" Duncan's eyes wandered to the ceiling.

"They've killed Hyrial," Duncan said. "They have two of the Eldarion, now."

"The Lavoids?"

"No. They still only possess that one which they recovered…one of the 4 that we gave them in the War."

"The Dominion, then?" Duncan nodded.

"They want to kill me, Lucent."

"I'd want to kill you too, after what your father did to Cain."

"He certainly had a way with things, didn't he?" They both chuckled.

"So Cain has two, the Lavoids have one, and you have one." Duncan nodded, reaching behind his back and grabbing the hilt of the sword that rested there under his coat. As the sword left its sheath, a dim red glow surrounded it. He brought the blade in front of him and examined it. The metal work, which had been redone so many times over the years, was still perfect. The intricate runic carvings glowed red as he held the weapon, illuminating the single edged blade. The simplistic hilt bore the Zealian Coat of Arms on one side, and the Crest of the LEA on the other.

"Yes," Duncan said. "This one is still safe with me. There are, though, twelve others." Duncan paused. "I shall have to meet with them," he said. "I shall have to inform them that all of their lives may be in danger." Lucent nodded in agreement. 

"Will they really be able to hold back the Dominion's forces on their own, however?"

"We all have allies, Lucent. No single one of us is ever alone."

"Ah, that code of the Brotherhood," Lucent said with slight scoff. "I've forgotten the all for one, one for all mentality of your race."

"It's simply because you don't have it with _ yours_," Duncan said offhandedly. Lucent frowned. "Funny how our remaining numbers are about the same, but the level of caring is so different."

"Some of us care," Lucent said. "Just not most of us. You should maybe take a lesson in that, kid. Watch out for number one." Duncan did not respond. Instead, he gazed around the room that they were in. It was an estate room that was used for important guests visiting the Hardavek Embassy on the Planetary Union boarder. That's where they were now, at the moment. While Duncan had been simply looking into the time stream as he gazed out of the window, what actually lay below was the planet Hardavek IV of the Harkavek System in the Third Quadrant. Duncan had some friends in high places in the Union.

The room was quite lavish, though neither man really demanded such opulence. In truth, both had commented that some of the rare metals used to adorn the various pieces of furniture, cigar boxes, fireplaces (yes, there were more than one) and coffee tables were a waste and should be used for more practical matters. The rugs that covered the floor, expensive imports from Dominion Craft Worlds, were mixes of dark reds and yellows, probably worth over five hundred grand apiece. The walls were given an artificial finish to make them look like stone, as was the ceiling, and the room was lit by dim lights that were designed to mimic candles. 

"What about other plans?" Lucent asked. "How did things go with your little 'transport' project?" Duncan smirked.

"The logistics were daunting. Not only was the amount of energy difficult to come by, but I wasn't even sure if I could work out things to match how they happened originally. Oh, and do _you_ know how difficult it is to cut the stream connections of something that size? And, after all of that, I'm not even sure how my little pawns will play out their game after they find the pieces I left."

"But it was done?"

"Yes, I managed to move them fine. See the little puffs along this part of the time stream, here and here?" He pointed to something that Lucent was not able to see. "That's the remnants of the Time Wave working itself out. The one called William Shard will find the first one rather soon, and the one called Valiod will find the second."

"What about this Darrell Shanning character?" Lucent asked. "While I can't understand why, Lucia seemed to have some interest in him."

"Darrell is not up to maximum power, yet," Duncan said. "In fact…he's not even close. I sense horrible things coming from his stream, though. Something terrible is going to happen, and he is going to be a big part of it."

"Do you think you can manipulate him?"

"…No," Duncan said. "Not only is his will too powerful, but his potential is enormous. I didn't think normal humans ran that powerful…not since Rakin, and Ertai, anyway. Regardless, his place in the continuum is too important to try and sway at the moment. Nor would I want to, I think. He will be up there amongst the great killers of Lavoids, eventually. He's worth more to me alive, than dead."

"But is he normal? Come on. Get with it, kid. You know as well as I what he looks to be doing."

"Hmm…I don't want to believe it, and yet there is a part of me that does. We will cross paths, though I do not know if we will cross blades. Our goals…seem to lie somewhere in the same place. As long as he doesn't pervert his motive too heavily, I don't foresee us becoming enemies."

"You sound like your mother," Lucent said with slight hint of indignation.

"Haha…." Duncan mumbled. He gazed around, staring for a moment at the planet below and thinking about his mother. Her face was a vague imprint on his mind, at this point. Memories of over a thousand years had the effect of washing old images out of one's head. He dimly recalled her hair and her eyes…not much more, though. He became sad for a moment, realizing maybe fully now, that he never knew his mother. 

"She died before I was born, as weird as that sounds," Duncan said. "I still don't know how it happened. But, she used to speak to me while I was in her womb. She used to say, 'Whatever destiny we have lies in our dreams,' because when she started to see into the time stream, she did so when she was asleep. She was haunted by nightmares…" he paused. "I think she knew what was going to happen on Terra the entire time. She never tried to stop him, my father, though."

"So now it's all your mom's fault?" Lucent asked.

"No, not at all," Duncan said. "I…I just wish I could have known her. That's all."

"A Planeswalker getting sappy?" Lucent said, raising an eyebrow. "This is unlike you, Duncan. Where's that 'I kill Lavoids because it's what I do best, and that's the way it is' attitude?" Duncan chuckled.

"Maybe it got lost along with my soul…" he said tentatively. "I don't know. You tell me. Where did it go?"

"You're not going soft on me, are you, kid?" Lucent said. "I can't have any protégé of mine be flimsy." 

"Bite me, Lucent," Duncan said. The two men looked at each other for a moment, then laughed.

"You still haven't explained why you want to kill this Class A you spoke of," Lucent pointed out.

"It's one of Pyriorias's hive…" Duncan said. "I'll take any information I can wretch from the thing's brain."

"Haven't you been doing enough of that already?"

"None that I've read really know much of anything. I'm just going to continue to look into the upper class ones. Maybe I can find some information. That, and I need to make some repairs on my ship, and it should provide a nice stash of Lemange for awhile."

"But what _exactly_ are you looking for?"

"I don't know, really. Just…something."

"You hiding something from me, Elijiaian?" Lucent asked.

"What do I have to hide?" Duncan responded. Lucent shrugged. 

"Your people are tricky. It's a shame there aren't more left in the Multiverse." Duncan looked at the blonde man and smiled a thin smile.

"It's been good to see you again, Lucent," he said, holding out his hand. Lucent paused for a moment before taking it. As he did, Duncan clasped his other hand around Lucent's forearm and they shook.

"You sure you're not going soft?" Lucent asked, grinning slightly.

"I'll let you know the kill time on this next one," Duncan said, smiling. "Then you can wager on your own if I'm going soft." He released his grip on Lucent and reached into his coat, drawing out his sunglasses and putting them on.

"In the mean time, Kyrie is probably getting antsy all by herself. I told her I'd only be an hour or so before I got back to the ship."

"What's an hour between friends, then?" Lucent asked. Duncan shrugged.

"I'll see you around, Lucent," he said. "Probably sooner than either of us would expect. I have a funny feeling from the streams. Something…is about to awake. I only hope we're all ready for it when it does." He turned and walked towards the exit.

"And Duncan?" Lucent said. Duncan paused and spun around.

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself," Lucent said, putting his own sunglasses back on as well. Duncan nodded, but Lucent wasn't around to see, as the Eternal had already disappeared with a flash of ethereal energy by the time the sound waves got to Duncan's ears.

"You too, old friend," Duncan said. "You too."

.

The Planeswalker walked down the halls of the embassy, heading toward the large hanger bays where his ship was being stored. The corridors and all the main rooms were just as elaborate and over done as the estate room that he had been in a few moments ago. He glanced at the walls in the hall and examined the turquoise and gold trims that ran along the moldings. Everything was designed to make the embassy feel more like a mansion and less like a space station. 

The station itself was in the shape of a wheel about four hundred yards across. The main docking area was in the lower section of the 'hub' of the wheel, which was where Duncan was heading now. As the station was designed as reception point for foreign guests and other such diplomats, it was quite the five-star establishment. Every now and then, a baggage boy in a red suit with gold buttons would run past Duncan, on his way to some task that would no doubt not earn him a large enough tip.

He passed through the halls, knowing where he was going. He liked this particular embassy. The food in the restaurants was good, and the service men in the space yard were cordial. He generally liked the Planetary Union. They were far more down to earth than those in the Dominion. Ah, how he will love toppling those Dominion bastards from their throne and finally get back at Cain for all the problems that he had caused. Yes, revenge would be sweet. Maybe after he killed Pyriorias, anyway.

Dwelling on the thought of Pyriorias never got him anywhere, though, as killing her was still out of his capacity. Then again, as a Planeswalker, he had nothing but time on his hands, so he would eventually find a way. The question of when wasn't even so important. It was a question more of how. He would kill this Class A to get his mind off of things. The thrill of the fight always calmed his soul.

As he came closer to the ship bay, a buzzing rang in his ear. He pushed his finger against his lobe and began to speak, answering the 'phone call' that was being delivered. 

"Yeah?" Duncan asked.

"You almost done?" came a female voice from the other end. It was his partner in his dubious Lavoid Hunting, Kyrie.

"Yeah. I'm on my way," he responded. "Anything worthy to report?"

"Not much," Kyrie said. "Nothing of note, though the ship parked next to us has been using some sort of internal scanner on us for the past twenty minutes. The ship is unmarked, and slightly smaller than ours."

"Armament?"

"It looks like two G-235's and a Series Discharge Grouping. Also, their missile stocks, Heat Seeking and Image Recognition, are running at about a third."

"Got the make on the Heat Seeking missiles?"

"Hmm…" She went silent as she browsed through some readouts. "They're made by Vector Corp, which means…" 

"Inquisition. Damn. Dominion bastards."

"Should I hail them?"

"Don't be foolish. If they were here to fight, their missile payloads would have been refilled. They're probably just watching us."

"So what do we do?" Duncan thought for a moment.

"I'll be back on board in a few minutes. We'll just try to lose them. I don't have time to deal with the Inquisition. I have a Lavoid to kill."

"The one in the Ygral System?"

"Ygral VII," Duncan said. "Did you get the numbers that I asked for?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "I hacked SolNet while you were busy with Lucent. It's a lower level, Class A. The magical residue on the planet is high, though. The fight won't be so hard, but it should be a nice take of Lemange."

"And we could use it. We still haven't repaired all the damage from our little skirmish with the Kzagadrah Hive Fleet."

"Well, they won't be repairing _any_ of the damage you caused, Duncan," she said. "Since you pretty much wiped them out."

"Bah," he said. "They were led by a weak Class B, and the fleet was small, to boot."

"The Union Still wants to repay you for that. Senator Hale has been trying to contact you."

"You can tell him that I'll meet with him within the week. I have some matters to attend to on Ygral VII at the moment."

"Will do."

"I'm almost out the ship now," Duncan said. "I'll talk to you once I'm on board. Over and out." He cut off the communication and entered an elevator that led from the main hub of the embassy. When he exited the elevator, he entered one of the places that still retained that good old feeling of the generic space stations throughout the galaxy: metal walls, florescent lights and nothing on the floors save for air ducts and piping. This particular hanger bay held about 20 ships (though there were only six parked here at the moment) that were arranged around the circular building. There were two other increasing larger hangers below this, but Duncan's history with the Union allowed him to park in the more exclusive hanger.

His ship, the Vendetta, was quite near the exit to the elevator, another advantage coming with his 'status.' It was a long and sharp, the wing structure not really existing until the very aft of the ship. He could see the large structures that housed the various space drives, as well as the auxiliary Chaos Drive. He didn't like to keep it active at all times because it gave those looking for him something to lock on to, mostly because he was the only one who even used a Chaos Drive. No ships used Chaos Drives anymore. It was simply not done. His standard sub-light drive was a heavily modified Dominion Vector Corp. Ether Over-Drive. For faster than light travel, the ship was equipped with Union-Eldar "Hyperion" Sub-Ether Drive, again heavily modified for his own purposes.

The size of the ship was rather large: about the fifty yards in length and twenty in wingspan. The fact that there typically was no more than himself and Kyrie traveling in it made some tell him it was a waste of space. No one considered he had had most of the living area stripped out to make room for larger space drives and more weapon systems. He did, after all, have a habit of engaging multiple ships in combat at once. Plus, when being chased by the Dominion, it never hurts to be able to fly faster than them.

He strolled up to the cargo entrance to the ship, a ten foot ramp which extended from the ship's underbelly and was currently being used by two maintenance men to push a cart of supplies on board. Walking up the ramp and past them, he entered the ship. He was quickly met by the ship's onboard computer greeting him.

"Good Evening, Dr. McKlane," the ship said. "How was your meeting with Mr. Mazer?" Duncan continued walking as he answered.

"You know, I really have to program you with a personality that isn't so formal," he said. Then, deciding not to spend too much time talking with a computer, he walked towards the sub-bridge, where he found ­­­Kyrie waiting for him, her hands on her hips.

Her name was short for Kyrial Arthian Rydia, though no one actually called her that. She was tall, though that was a given for an Elf (her race preferred the name Eldar), though her features were rather soft for that of one. Typically, Elves had high cheekbones and ears that came to sharp points. Even though her bloodline was pure, her ears were slightly rounded at their tips and her facial structure was soft. She had claimed that it was actually a sign of genetic superiority, but Duncan had never looked into it.

Her hair was long and blonde, let down and tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were greenish blue, which indicated that she came from a bloodline originating in the Dominion. This was only odd because the Dominion had driven out most of the non-humans a long time ago. She herself didn't know where her family was at this point.

She and Duncan were partners in the 'employment' of killing Lavoids. She was the Whistler to his Blade, in a manner of speaking. He never considered her a sidekick of any kinds. She was more of the behind-the-line support. That, and she was a wizard with technology, which was perfect if you needed someone to construct weapons to fight something that conventional blades don't kill. It was she that had actually performed the latest modification on the Dreamblade, and honor which only two other people in history could claim to.

"Welcome back," she said. "How is Lucent?"

"Bitter and sarcastic, as always," Duncan said, walking past her. She turned around and followed him up a ladder which led up to the bridge. "Though he actually expressed some concern over our situation with the Dominion." He climbed on to the floor of the bridge and stood there for a moment. 

"About the Weapons?"

"Yes."

"Are you worried?" she said, looking at him. He didn't answer for a moment.

"Yes," he said at length. "I don't like being vulnerable."

"No one does, Duncan," she said. He remained stiff.

"Come on," he said at end. "Let's make headway out of here." 

"…Right," she said. Duncan climbed into the pilot's chair, which was above and behind the navigator's chair. The bridge itself quickly came alive and the walls became filled with a video representation of what was going on around them. Lights flashed throughout as the onboard computer (which Kyrie had named Lyris) began to run through the preflight checklists.

The bridge of the Vendetta only had seating room for two, as Duncan had modified it to not require any more personal in order to pilot. It was positioned towards the front of the vessel, though there were no portholes to the outside. All the imaging was done via a series of cameras that were wired to high definitions screens, projecting a 360 degree horizontal and 180 degree vertical display of the outside of the bridge. 

The functions of the bridge could be completely handled by Duncan and Kyrie, and the ship was still about 80% operational if one of them was not present, due to aide of the exceptional artificial intelligence system that Kyrie had designed a good while ago. Frequent upgrades kept Lyris on the top of his game.

"Vendetta to Launch Control," Duncan said into a communications unit as he began to activate the various engines and drives of the ship. The bridge began to buzz with excitement as Lyris started to read out the checklist as he went down it. _Positron Collision Drive, check. Particle Accelerator Stabilization, check._

"Launch Control to Vendetta. We hear you." _Sub-Ether drives, check. Laser guiding, check. Primary navigation system, check._

"Requesting permission to launch," Duncan said. He looked to the left. The Inquisition ship was full of activity as they prepared for their own launch. _Linear Accelerators, check. Weapons systems, check. Missile stores, full._

"You are currently second in line for launch," the voice from Launch Control said. "Estimated time is one minute, thirty seconds." _Secondary navigation system, check. Sub space navigation system, check. Magnetic repulsion generators, check._

"Acknowledged, Launch Control. Vendetta, out." Duncan eyed the other ship again and began to give the engines power. _Exhausts, check. Emissions, check. Life Support, check. Ether drives, check._

"Ygral VII, Duncan?" Kyrie asked. _Auxiliary life support, check. Primary weapon guidance, check. Drive chain, check. Energy stores, full._

"Set a course," Duncan said, flipping on the switches for the primary Ether Drive. The turbines in the rear of the ship roared to life as the ship began in the intake of Ether Winds. Duncan had altered the engines to include a turbo induction system, which when combined with intercoolers and filters, increased the amount of Winds going through the system by anywhere from two to five times. He activated the turbo inductors, as well. _Real Space course set,_ the computer echoed as Kyrie imput the coordinates. _Sub Space travel calculations underway. Environmental conditions normal. Energy shields activated._

"Deactivate the front shields," Duncan said. "Divert energy to the rear, for now. We'll be beating the Dominion bastards out of the hanger."

_Affirmative. Shields redirected. Energy chains normal. Ether collectors activated. Turbo systems on._

"Launch Control to Vendetta. You are cleared for take off." _Temperatures normal. Engine functions normal. Pre-flight check-list complete. Ready for takeoff._

"Thank you, Launch Control," Duncan said, pressing one last sequence of switches on the right side of the panel. The computer began the launch countdown. _10…9…8…6…5…4…_

"Have a nice day," the voice of the Launch Controller said as the engines of the Vendetta began to run faster and faster. Ignition of Ion Thrust drives was cued. _3…2…_

"Next stop…Ygral VII," Duncan murmured. _…1!_ The computer finished his countdown and Duncan slammed the throttle control forward. The ship's engines flared and the Vendetta blasted out of the hanger. Duncan and Kyrie felt about 5 G's before the internal compensators took over, and the ship rocketed towards their goal. A small trail of blue energy was remained on the path of their travel, leaving the Dominion Inquisitor ship far behind. They were off to the hunt, and no one was to stop them.

.

Nova, Capital of the Sol Dominion

On the Planet of Nova, Capital of the Sol Dominion, a Council was meeting. Even though one man, Emperor Cain, basically ran the Sol Dominion, he did employ the advice of eight other high ranking officials. This Council, called the Elder Gathering, would meet from time to time in the Imperial Palace to discuss pressing issues dealing with the State. It would just so happen for the sake of our story that their current issue was dealing with the Black Angel of Death himself, Duncan McKlane.

The Council room was a large circle, the ceiling being an elaborately carved dome that sat four stories above the floor. On the inside of the dome, pictures depicting a battle over a bright star were etched into the marble ceiling. Six support arches traced their way down the dome to form into six pillars that stood equidistance apart on the edge of the circle. Nine tall, gray chairs sat around the room, all about five feet from the center and a similar distance from each other. One chair, the one for Cain, was wider and had gold trimmings. In the center of the room was a slightly raised area that housed a holographic projector. 

"Our problem currently at hand," Emperor Cain began, "is in the form of the blood that we've had trouble with before. Duncan, son of Lathain of Zeal. He has recently come out of the hiding that he was in and the power he displays is frightening. In addition, recent history has led me to suspect that he is engaging in activities that might be…shall we say, detrimental to our affairs?"

"He is just one man, though," someone said. "What problems can one man cause?"

"Watch…" Cain replied, hitting a small button on the arm of his chair. The holographic projector in the middle of the room came to life, displaying with crystal clear vividness a battle scene. The camera focused in on a blue haired man that was wearing a black trench coat. In his hand was a single edge sword that glowed a dim red.

"This scene is taken from a video recording just a few months ago on the fifth planet in the Jejujum system. There was a reasonably powerful Class C infested there…" As Cain drifted into silence, the image of Duncan began to move. He drew his sword back and ran forward. Ahead of him, the outlines of several Farilii charged forward, but they were all cut down in a blur as Duncan momentarily disappeared, then reappeared behind them, his sword stained in blood. Duncan continued running toward the large spiked object that was in the distance: the Lavoid.

Dodging the occasional attack and eating through the Lavoid's ground forces like a lawn mower, he finally came up to shell of the Lavoid. Without pause, he stabbed his weapon into the eye of the beast and brought the blade in a circular motion, carving out a cone shaped recess. Drawing the blade out again, he pulled the eye module out of its socket and the Lavoid screamed. The movie paused.

"Now, that was being played at about one third speed," Cain said. "So you can guess the speed at which he moves. Then perhaps even the bigger problem comes when we fast forward about thirty seconds. He entered into the Lavoid's shell and made his way to the biological center of the being. We weren't able to film this with standard means, but if you look here, you can see the thermal imaging scan we took." The movie skipped ahead and the image appeared as one of reds, blues, oranges and purples. 

"This is inside of the Lavoid?"

"Yes. Now, watch what happens. Here, we presume that they are arguing over something, or he is explaining something to him. This is a higher level Class C, mind you. Now, watch…" as if on cue, the recorded Duncan wound up and smashed the figure of the Lavoid in the head with his fist. There was some splatter of brain matter that left the back of the skull, then the Lavoid fell to the floor. Duncan lowered his hand towards it, and the image of the Lavoid on the thermal scan became nothing but dark blue and purple. The Counsel sat in silence for a moment.

"Dead?" someone asked.

"Stone cold dead," Cain replied. "One punch. The sword never even left its sheath."

"What makes you think he would be a threat to the Dominion? His father displayed a great deal of power, as well, and he never attacked us until…that incident."

"It is because he thinks I am trying to kill him," Cain answered.

"And…are you?" There was a long pause.

"Of course," the old man finally responded. "I've been trying to end his line for hundreds of years now. There is still…dishonor in his existence."

"You still hold that feud?" a new voice said, the one from the man to his left. This was Multani, his highest advisor.

"It isn't so simple as a feud, Multani. This is a vendetta."

"Then let me handle him," he said, rising from his chair. "You have yet to give me the opportunity."

"You couldn't even stop his father, and you expect to stop him?" Cain said in a condescending tone. "Are you aware that his father was never able to kill a Class C with such a simple attack? Duncan's readouts are far more impressive." Multani took offense and leaned back down.

"I have them, Emperor," someone across from Cain said. "Would you like me to read them to you?"

"Please, enlighten the Council as to his threat," he said, motioning with his hand for the Councilman named Ilitiar to proceed. 

"Duncan McKlane, son of Jack McKlane, aka Lathain of Zeal, is perhaps the most powerful manipulator of Chaos Magic in the galaxy," he began. "And, with nearly 1500 years of battle experience, he is probably one of the greatest swordsmen as well." He rose and waved his hand, causing the image projector in the middle to begin to run through a slide show of various battle pictures taken of Duncan. "His Wing Index, which the LEA used to measure proficiency with the Black Wings, is a staggering 24.6. His father's, to note, was about 10.2.

"As you would assume, he had a rather impressive operation record before he left the mercenary and professional circles to act on his own. He served in our own Inquisition for some fifteen years under a fake name. In that time, he met his tasks with 100% success, and recorded kills of over 1600 heretics. His position, when he finally left the organization, was one of very high rank."

"Why would he have helped us?" someone asked. Cain sighed.

"Because I'm sure with that rank came an awful lot of security clearance," he said matter-of-factly.

"Exactly," Ilitiar continued. "After leaving the Inquisition, he left the Dominion and served for a Union Special Forces unit called the Night Stalkers, bounced around in the Union military for a while, ending up in another unit codenamed Death Lance. We don't have records of his kill count or mission information in these units. We know he served in Death Lance for about fives years before again moving on.

"He turned up about thirty years later in the employ of MysPol in the Mystician Empire. We think it was around this time that he acquired his ship, the Vendetta. Again, we don't have records of his services in this agency. We have a feeling, though, that his knowledge of all three major GPs is rather large, due to the extensive time he has served in each one's military. The equipment he uses in range from Mystican TEARS weapons to Dominion military star-drives. This guy has been all over the place." He turned off the slide show and continued talking.

"We're not sure what happened to Duncan next. In fact, for about five hundred years, he drops completely off the records. He may have been in the unexplored sectors, or he was possibly just purposefully avoiding detection. He turned up again about twelve months ago, taking a Lavoid Hive of four Class As, forty Class Bs and an innumerable amount of Class Cs with him. We don't know what means he used to do this, we just know what we could find from the remains.

"Basically, he is extremely powerful, and wields magic which can decimate biological and geological matter on very large scale. We reckon him to be stronger than his father, and we all remember how much damage Lathain caused when his wrath was incurred."

"So why don't we learn from our mistakes?" someone asked. "Why try to fight with this man? When we tried to take out Lathain, half of the Dominion was laid to waste by his forces. Why would we attract attention of something so powerful when it is again clear that he wishes us no direct harm?"

"Because," Cain said, "he, unlike his father, has reason to want to destroy us." Nods went around the Council. There was momentary silence as Cain considered the options.

"It is his magic that makes him so powerful," Cain said. "And his magic is a combination of years of training, as well as his genetic makeup…" The room was silent until a man on the left side of the circle name Yral (who had yet to utter a word) opened his mouth.

"Emperor…" he said slyly, rising from his seat. "I have a good idea…"

* * *

To Previous Chapter Flames of Vengeance Home To Next Chapter ****


	5. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

** Art of a Master**  


_The Ethereal Weapon alone is not enough to kill a Lavoid ranked above Class C. While magically endowed weapons given ethereal properties are able to heavily damage Lavoids, even Class C's can resist against these. Lavos, Elosia's Lavoid is actually the subject of debate in the matter of whether or not the Rainbow Sword would have actually killed him if he hadn't sent himself flying through time and into hibernation at the last moment. When confronting a Class B, the Ethereal Weapon bypasses physical defense by connecting to the spiritual form. In this way, though, it creates a channel for introducing high-level magic into the Lavoid. For Class C's, use the weapon to kill. For Class B's, use the weapon as a conductor for magic and you'll find success._

_ -The LEA Manual_

.

The elves had always been met with trepidation from the human rulers of the Dominion. It may have been because they were practically immortal by human standards. In actuality, their life span was simply that of a few thousand years. It is suspected that millennia ago, they were actually immortal, though living now in a time of constant galactic upheaval and war caused them to grow 'world-weary' after a long enough time.

Elves are a wondrous race. The Dominion Database has this to say about them:

_"Elves are pale-skinned with fine, aesthetically beautiful features and hair as fine as flax. They are tall and proud in their bearing and though they have a slim build, they are surprisingly strong and agile for their size. Elves are long lived, some say immortal, and less vulnerable to disease than humans. Their movements are graceful and controlled, their minds are quick and clever with an intensity and depth of insight which makes them seem strange to other races, ourselves included. Although they are a noble people, the elves can be cold and haughty, quick to anger and slow to forgive."_

They excel in many accounts, war-making being one of them, though it hadn't been exercised in years. In truth, the elves were considered a 'dying' race by many. Their numbers were spread and their birth rates were low. The Dominion, while recognizing their skill as architects and scientists, takes a position that the time of the elves has passed and it is the humans that will now rule the galaxy.

Also, their magical capability is rather high. On average, a normal adult elf can channel between two and four of the Winds (humans, even the most skilled, can normally only channel one). As one might extrapolate, they were responsible for much of the early research on magical energies, and elf engineers are known to have been heavily responsible for the development of the Ether Drive that is standard on most starships in the Dominion. 

All other elves aside, however, Kyrie is the elf that is important to our tale at the moment. She had known Duncan for about as long as she could remember, mostly because that was over one thousand years. They had run into each other on and off through the years until he finally invited her to work with him about fourteen months ago. They had always functioned well together, and he respected her mastery of the technical aspects of warfare. 

Her extended family, what she knew of them anyway, was spread all across the galaxy. All of her direct family was dead, now. Like many of the people Duncan interacted with, this was because of Lavoid interaction. When she was young, she lived on a wealthy trade planet ruled by elves called Ithilian. It was a central point in Dominion Trade routes, and one of the only points left in the Dominion where Elves still dwelled free of persecution.

After her homeworld had been virtually destroyed by the invasion of the Lavoid Hive Fleet Yllamer, she found herself alone on the wastelands of her planet, spending her days and nights hiding from the Hive Colony that was growing there. It was then that _he_ showed up. It wasn't a day she could ever forget.

Duncan was only in his first century of life at that point, but he was already so strong. He made even the advanced fighting armies of the elven forces look weak as he single handedly destroyed the hive fleet that had infested the planet with magic the likes of which most people never saw. Chaos magic was not something witnessed often; it took a great deal of skill and the right genes to even begin to understand its function. With it, though, Duncan killed the Class C that was the leader of the hive there and wiped the planet clean of Lavoidian creatures. Sadly, though, life on the planet had been almost completely decimated; it had been a planet of trade, not a planet of war. 

Kyrie was fourteen (so young for an elf, was it not?) when all of this happened. She was hiding with some other survivors when she first saw him. He must have just finished his battle because his coat was dirty and there had been some black slush of Lavoid blood sprayed on him. She remembered that as he walked into the shelter she was in, he took off his glasses and revealed his eyes. What she saw in them was the core of someone who had a burden that was indescribable, but shouldered without complaint. In fact, the very weight of Ithilian itself seemed to press upon him, and yet he still stood tall.

Maybe she fell in love with him, then. She was never really sure. Some sort of connection established itself though, as he helped the survivors out of their hiding and showed them their world which he had freed. He was just one man, and his hand had liberated a whole world. He was somewhat of the ultimate tall, dark and handsome stranger that wanders into town to solve some sort of unsettled dispute. A gunslinger of space, perhaps. It didn't matter, though. Three months of hiding had ended, and there was much celebration amongst the survivors.

Why she felt pangs of care for this man who shared not more than five words with her was a mystery. To this day, she was not able to explain why. She knew that there was a connection between them, which might be the reason why they crossed paths so many times.

Again, Destiny manifests itself many ways in our existences, sometimes when we don't even know it. Meeting someone, getting to know someone, and having the 'chance' to run into them at a later date (let alone on multiple occasions) are scenarios that show the effects of destiny in our everyday lives. The trick sometimes is learning to accept Destiny when it comes our way, whether that means enjoying its fruits or coping with its tragedy. Jack McKlane had said something to the extent that accepting Destiny is the first step towards getting something done with your life. Perhaps he rubbed off on Duncan in this regard.

When Kyrie and Duncan finally began their partnership, it had been after running into each other over two dozen times in chance situations, sometimes on alternating sides of a the galaxy. Granted, fourteen hundred years gives a lot of time to cross paths with someone, but the galaxy is also quite a big place. People in the future might say that they just gave in to Destiny, and that fate had been just bringing them together for the longest time. Others might argue that there was a bigger pull from the 'outside,' and that the only reason they had been pushed together was so that they could be pulled apart…

.

The Vendetta came out of Sub-Ether drive in a high orbit above Ygral VII. The planet showed signs of a long-term infestation and elements of terraforming which the Lavoid may have begun to work from its slumber. It _was_ still sleeping, though, which would make everything much harder. Class A's normally built up reasonably large armies to have at the ready when it surfaced, too. If Duncan was to do the job he set out to do, there would be much bloodshed on Ygral VII today.

He pulled his ship into a lower orbit.

"I'm readying the Thermo-Shock Detonators ," (TSDs) Kyrie said. They were the weapons that she had designed with the aide of old LEA materials that induced the early surfacing of a Lavoid. Extremely useful for getting at the things without having to use a Trimetra Rana in order to dig a mine shaft some few miles into the Planet's crust, and abstaining from excessive use of Chaos magic was always a good thing. 

"Good. Do we have a location of the target?"

"Affirmative. How long?"

"Ninety seconds, then figure a two and a half minute fall to the surface." Kyrie ran the numbers through her head.

"Two minutes and ten seconds," she corrected, he brain dealing with the figures with computer like efficiency. Duncan didn't respond.

"And add a three second displacement for my own teleport."

"Already factored in."

"On top of things today, huh?" he asked.

"As always," she responded, typing away at the control panel in front of her. It gave off some audio cues that things were happening and there was a low hum on the starboard side of the ship as the TSD launchers warmed up. Duncan pulled lightly back on the control stick and brought the ship into an orbit that was ever so slightly higher.

"What was that?" she asked.

"_Now_ it's two and a half minutes," he said, grinning slightly, having made the calculated decent to the surface match his original guess.

"You _would_, wouldn't you?" she said sarcastically, but unable to help smiling herself. 

"I'm running to prep," he said, climbing out of his seat and pressing a small orange button on the left side of his control seat. "The controls are yours."

Duncan made his way down out of cockpit and down the main corridor until he came to the forward ladder shaft. Descending down to the lower level of the ship, he continued making his way down the corridor, coming to a door marked Armory. The door slid open with a hiss as he walked into the room and gathered his things together.

The first thing that he grabbed was his sword. He lifted the ceremonial case off of its shelf, snapped it open, and drew out the red-silver blade. Examining it briefly, he flipped it over in his hand and put it into the sheath on his back.

Next were his guns. Twin modified .45-Ether Class IA magnums, slung at his hips. These little devices were modified to fire bullets containing Crystain filled tips, killing most LEBC's instantly. They also had fire selector, including an option to use magically enhanced bullets which replicated spells. The whole gun was a marvel of engineering, holding the bullet in a magnetically contained field and then firing it at high velocities using electromagnets and laser-guides. Special 'spell' bullets could be loaded manually or fire-selected, turning the gun into what technicians called a Caster Pistol.

Following the guns were Crystain-cast stakes, five that were placed in a strap around his left leg and five more in a sling on the right side of his torso. The outer coat was a Crystain alloy, used to damage the ethereal body. The inside had a vein of ARG-71, and when the tip entered the flesh, it instantly pumped the poison into the victim. Useful for killing Class A Farilii and higher powered creatures.

On his left forearm he attached a warp blade generator. Based on the TEARS system (Tenser Energy Absorption and Reflection), this device provided a natural channel for the Black Wings projected from the fire point. Combined with the TEARS, it allowed for absorption of auxiliary energies that reinforced the Black Wings. The warp blade generator also contained standard T-Blade functions, though Duncan usually refrained from using the long blade portion unless two swords were needed. His preferred use of it was as a parrying blade for use against skilled opponents.

Finally came his trench coat, which he threw on and straightened out. Brushing it off, he swept the coat behind him and marched out the door towards the teleportation room…

.

The TDSs had begun to work. On the surface, the rumbling that marked the surfacing was beginning. The initial cracks in the crust of the planet were stereotypical of a textbook surfacing. Either this Lavoid knew Duncan was coming, or was just very ready to meet him.

Duncan's appeared on the planet about a mile from the epicenter of where the surfacing was expected to be. Up from the cracks in the earth, swarms of six legged insectoid creatures crawled to the surface and began to run in his direction. They were Terminids, the initial ground forces that a Lavoid of Class C or above would use to defend itself. These Lavoidian creatures, about two feet high and four feet long, were normally effective in weighing down an assault force with their sheer numbers. They were quick, and made attacks with their claws and teeth which cut through most light infantry armor. The LEA had normally wiped them out in a preliminary bombardment, not dispatching troops until the second and sometimes third waves of ground assaults appeared (depending on how long the Lavoid had been there to spawn its army). Duncan normally bypassed their attacks entirely.

Waiting for them to get close enough, he simply used a series of short distance planeshifts to get passed the line of attack. The creatures, while controlled effectively by the mental exudes of the Lavoid, were packed too closely to be able to turn around in time to stop Duncan from getting away from them. He ended his phase shifting and continued to run.

He could see the growing spikes of the Class A Lavoid that was rising out of the ground in the distance. The Class As, characterized by three layers of armored spikes layered on top of each other, typically were able to dispatch a large land army before anything was able to get into their range. Duncan, however, was faster than the 'typical' lone attacker of a Lavoid. The Class A knew this, though. No Hive Army this size was ever sent out to eliminate a lone warrior. No single combatant was ever met with a landscape that was blackened by the swarms of demonic creatures that completely obscured the ground from view.

_Almost there_, he thought. _Just a little bit. Keep the running. He must have been sleepy. His reaction time is slow. Think I'll go in through the shell, no need for entering through the eye. What spell to use? The Winds of Fire are pretty strong here. Burst Flare...cast with a displacement...set off from six inches below the top layer of shell...yeah, that'll get him._

He drew his guns from their holsters on his hips. Coming up now were some of the larger ground units, along with a few Farilii. His weapons were excellent at taking down most lower-level Lavoid Creatures, so the Ghur-nar and the Shamirs wouldn't be difficult. Even the Farilii were disabled of their regenerative ability if the shot was landed towards the base of the brain stem.

_Shooting through the neck. No breathing. No regeneration. Just the way to go._

He picked up the pace, and strafing right for a few moments, he opened fire, the shots ringing across the field. Even at over one hundred yards, the shots were still perfect and bodies fell to the floor. He was still too far away to see the thick black blood shoot out of the backs of their heads, but the satisfaction was still there. He continued on his original path.

"Lavoid has fully surfaced," Kyrie's voice came over the intercom. "Energy readouts indicate it is charging surface-to-surface beams. Proceed with caution."

"Got an angle of attack for infiltration?"

"Forty seven degrees to your left. Carve a path, and it'll be out of the Lavoid's cone of vision. His own troops are blocking his line of sight from that line of attack. Give yourself some spell cover and he won't see you until you're on top of him!"

"On it," he said, his ever present calm remaining. Firing a few more rounds, he holstered his guns and quickly formed the Winds into a concentration.

"Demuné Fog," he said simply, holding his hands over his temples and projecting his will onto the field. A great path of mist and shadows streaked forward, cutting off the majority of the battlefield from Duncan's vision. He, however, was also concealed from theirs. The mist was magically strong enough to actually provide a wall that not only blocked line of sight, but reduced movement through it by seven eighths speed.

He kicked off the ground in a mighty leap, soaring over the confused forces that were still able to see him. In the distance, he could hear the Lavoid groan in confusion and begin to fire energy blasts at the fog. Behind him, he could see streaks of green and red tear through the fog, masses of smaller creatures pouring out through the newly created gaps. They ran towards him via the path which he had carved just seconds ago.

"Diem Wind," he uttered, extending his left hand and creating a gale like funnel that blew away the enemies with its high speeds. A nice, circular landing point formed.

"You're about fifty yards short," Kyrie said over the open link. "But the computer says the Winds are strong enough to reach through."

"I'm going to Burst Flare through his armor. When I get finish setting up, start firing the disruption webs to slow down the rest of this forces. He should be too preoccupied to be able to control them, but if there are enough synapse creatures, they might be able to turn the forces around on their own."

Synapse creatures were the high level Lavoids' way of dealing with their enlarged armies. In addition to being powerful fighters in their own right (and damn ugly, too), synapse creatures were possessed of a mental link up with the Lavoid that allowed them to direct the armies on their own. In larger hives, the synapse creatures were necessary for the Lavoid to exert control over the beings that were farther away from its sphere of influence. They channeled their influence through the synapse creatures, who in turn channeled their energies through the hordes under their control. In effect, they are the closest thing that a Lavoid horde has to a 'chain of command,' making them function like the Lieutenants and Captains in a Dominion force. 

"I'm running the numbers now. I'll have the timing down. How long 'till you contact?" 

Duncan ran through the available data for a moment. 

"Forty five seconds," he said finally, already beginning to channel large quantities of the Winds of Fire and leaping off the landing zone he had created with the Diem Wind. Part of his mind became devoted to dodging the projectiles which flew through the air in a blanket of barbs and mesh, while the other section, the more conscious section, focused on forming the complicated threads and strands which made up the network that became a spell. When the Winds were tied together in the proper manner (and he was ready), they would resolve as he had dictated, forming the outward explosion of fire energy that was the Burst Flare.

Something flew at his face from the right, but a quick sway to the left avoided the attack and a brown, bony creature missed his neck with a sharp claw. Another attack from directly in front…a series of spines with barbed tips coming at high velocity. In a split second, he drew his sword and spun around with a flurry of blade motions, deflecting the shards away. The sword was sheathed, and he continued running towards the point where he would enter the Lavoid's shell.

He was close now, and the spell was almost ready. The Ethereal winds begun to manifest themselves in the physical plane and the air around Duncan became heated and dry. He held the collected winds in his left hand and drew a gun in his right. Thumbing the selector dial to wide-bore, he fired a blast parallel to the long side of the Lavoid. A blue beam surrounded with streaks of electricity shot forth, incinerating the horde in front of him and creating a new path. He sheathed the gun, ran another few paces down the new corridor, then prepared to attack.

Time seemed to go slow as he finally planted his feet and launched himself into the air over the hordes. It wasn't so much how things seemed, but that he actually tended to warp time when using excessive amounts of energy. His appearance to those around him would become blurred and distorted as his position in the time stream became less definite. 

The force of his jump as he flew upward kicked the creatures around him back. He coursed through the sky and saw the Lavoid. The spell, and the Winds which he had held so close for the past minute, locked into their final form, and the spell began to act.

"Burst Flare!" he shouted, mostly for effect, though the words would be distorted to all those who could hear. The fire Winds clicked, and the spell went off. In the distance, just below the skin of the monstrous Lavoid, red heat began to gather. The energy showed through the shell and Duncan could begin to sense the pain coming from the general direction of the beast.

Beams of red light wavered towards the outer core of the shell at first, as the response of the inter-planer transition of the Ether began to manifest itself. When they had met the right spot, there was a loud explosion as the energy forced its way outward, letting nothing around it curb its path of destruction. The shell was torn away and the creatures around the beast were blasted to oblivion. White light filled the area, morphing into brilliant shades of yellow and orange towards the end of the spell. Wind whipped violently through the area, much of its force reaching Duncan, though he was a safe distance away from the attack. Around the shell of the Lavoid, only the charred remains of his followers. 

Of the actual shell, a large portion still remained (the Lavoid had been able to put up a partial shield against the magical attack), but a goodly chunk was carved out of its left side in the shape of a sphere. This hole, as Duncan had plan, dug right down to the central core. The radius effect of the spell had blown away every creature right up the point where he now hovered, creating a nice an open path between him and the Lavoid.

Time accelerated now as he warped space to move quickly through the newly created path. He had open reign of a circle with a 50 yard radius, and he flew in low towards the Lavoid whose scream was still echoing through the dry, hot air. The Lavoid's horde had been scattered, though. The brainless, smaller creatures were too far away now to affect him and the Burst Flare had taken out a large portion of the Farilii and synapse creatures. 

He was at the base of the shell in a few seconds. His motions still blurred to those who remained alive, he reached into his coat and grabbed a set of small, metal, cylindrical objects. As they came free of their storage location, they extended to about four feet each with a small blue blinking light on the top. 

Duncan warped time again, moving in and out of the planes to act before the Lavoid could respond. With great force, he propelled each of the four cylinders into the shell of the Lavoid in varying places across its surface. The hard material of the shell cracked under Duncan's strength as the columns locked into a place and started to hum.

These wonderful little tools were called Ethereal Thumpers (ET's for short). They emitted a series of Ethereal hums and pulses that, while slightly cacophonous to the magically tuned ear, also screwed with the interface that the Lavoid held with his shell, preventing it from retreating back into the mantle of the planet.

A grumbling ensued from within the shell. The Lavoid was realizing that fighting its attacker was the only option at this point. There was a signature slurping sound as the Lavoid was freed itself from its biological armor. When Duncan descended into the depths of the shell, he would be meeting the Lavoid in face to face combat.

See, Lavoids normally cover their natural bodies with a protective suit of biological body armor which allows them to interface with their shell. The shell in and of itself was more than just a spaceship, however. For practical purposes it was a part of them. When the Lavoids had been designed by the humans on Terra, there was no shell in the original schematics. In fact, the shell didn't seem to appear in Lavoid biology until a few hundred years after the First _Fall_ of Terra. Speculations on the part of most historians conclude that the shell came from the genetic material of some other species which the Lavoids had absorbed along the line. Through history, they had always absorbed whatever DNA they could get their hands on, incorporating beneficial adaptations into the code that they passed on through their children. These children then contained the genetic code to produce the shell biologically, and the bio-armor was an adaptation that came about in order to control the shell. Since the shell is a distinctive feature for nearly every Lavoid in the galaxy, those who hadn't assimilated the shell adaptation probably all died off.

When the biological armor is shed by the Lavoid, what is left is a humanoid with bluish skin and no nose, and long blue tendrils in place of hair. Even in most of the more highly evolved Class A's, the basic structure remained the same (the Lavoids had probably taken a likening to their form). Their inner biological processes sometimes differed, and scientists have discovered various adaptations for channeling magical energy, detoxifying poisons, resisting ethereal attacks, as well as other variations, but the physical structures were all very close.

It was in the hordes they created that the biological diversity of the species' that they had assimilated showed. While there were seemingly a finite number of genus's within a given horde, their unique metabolisms (aided by Chaos energy) allowed them to evolve at a frightening rate. Evolutionary tracks taking centuries and even millennia can be reproduced in only one or two generations. Depending on what mutations in genetic code the Lavoid chooses to give a particular genus within his horde, the variation can sometimes make normally mundane Lavoidian creatures unrecognizable. Duncan had probably killed off about twenty different types of creatures (a typical Lavoid will have an army ranging from fifteen to twenty five different types of units) in his path to the Lavoid. And, through his travels, while there were always usual fares, such as Farilii, he almost always came a genus of creature with a variation or mutation that he had never seen before.

Now he was approaching his specialty, though: killing the Lavoid itself. Of all the events in a given attack, the death of the Lavoid was the only one that reigned most supreme. Killing off the Lavoid itself ended in the confusion, desertion and eventual death of all of his hordes; only the Lavoid can help them channel the Chaos that they require for life.

He was about to bound into the crevasse that bore down to the central chamber. For a moment, he gazed at the destruction the spell had carved. The visible cross section of the shell was thick, but the surfaces were mostly melted together by the heat of the blast. He could see how long the main spikes were now, a general gauge as to the age of the Lavoid. Down through the cross section of the shell, the layers of protective coating were no longer distinguishable, and as he moved in for his attack, he could even see the exposed central chamber. 

He jumped into the hole, landing on slimy biological matter that made up the floor of the chamber. His eyes darted around looking for his opponent, but the Lavoid had apparently made the first move in preparing for his defense, hiding himself in some way. Duncan sniffed the air. He paused, waited and perked up his ears.

_Right!_ He swung is shoulder out of the way as beam of black energy tore through the air. In an instant, he strafed left, drawing his guns and unloading a few shots into the air. 

"Sensors detect use of Wind of Air," Kyrie said over the com-link unit, breaking her silence. 

_Invisibility!_ Duncan realized. He backed up against the wall of the shell. 

_No matter_, he thought. He sheathed his guns and quickly summoned up a large quantity of raw Winds.

"Dispel!" he shouted, producing a gust of ethereal wind designed to disrupt the functioning of any spells around him. The wind wasn't visible, save for a slight disturbance that ran through the air, but the effect was produced and a bluish humanoid appeared on the opposing side of the shell. 

Duncan smirked. The Lavoid, realizing that his cover was gone, attempted to attack. He rushed forward, blades of black energy appearing in his hands and wings (made of the same stuff) arched from his back. Duncan wasn't phased. He shifted forward two steps and held his ground. As the Lavoid reached attacking distance, Duncan darted to the left and his own Black Wings came to life from the Warp Blade projector on his left arm. There was a brief clashing of blades as Duncan deflected the first set of the Lavoid's attacks. For a moment he paused, then swiped the Lavoid's next attack out of the way, and before it knew what had happened, Duncan was to its right. There was a quick flash as Duncan flew over the Lavoid's head and slapped a Chaos Bind on its back. The Binder emitted a charge, and by the time Duncan had landed on the opposing side, the Black Wings that the Lavoid was projecting had been dissipated with a huff of electronic energy.

The two combatants paused and looked at each other, each with eyes that had killed more than they could count.

"Lavoid Bane!?" the Lavoid hissed, realizing the device that had been used on him. "Duncan McKlane!"

"I take it I need no introduction," Duncan said with perverse sarcasm. His right hand slid up to the hilt of the Dreamblade. The blade of black energy still pulsed from his left arm. 

"Earrgh!" the Lavoid yelled in battle cry, gathering a dangerous amount of magic into the chamber. Duncan snapped his left hand forward and the blade of energy sent a ripple through the air that blew away the Winds that the Lavoid was gathering. Then, in a sharp movement, Duncan kicked off his right heel and flew through the air. He disappeared from the physical plane with a flicker, appearing again right in front of the Lavoid. He swayed right. The Lavoid brought its left hand across in an attempted attack, but the Dreamblade darted out of its sheath in an upward semi-circle, separating the beast from his elbow and below. A spray of blood came out of the opening and the Lavoid staggered back. 

With his blade up and the Lavoid distracted, Duncan planeshifted again, reappearing above and behind the beast. Then, the blade came down and the Lavoid screamed.

Duncan had delivered the Kyd'ec Tal Ran, a blow that entered at the top of the spinal column and involved impaling five vertebrae and the intestines before coming out of the body just above the pelvic bone. More importantly, it severed just the right nerves to keep the victim alive and conscious, though paralyzed from the neck down. This way, the Lavoid was alive for Duncan to dive into its mind and search for information…

The Lavoid would have staggered forward if it could control its own motions. With the being unable to move, though, Duncan held it up by holding the sword in place. He leaned forward over the Lavoid's shoulder, looking over his glasses with a piercing stare into the Lavoid's eyes. The Lavoid returned the glance with a look of terror.

"Now, we can make this quick, or slow," Duncan said coldly. "You cooperate, you feel no pain. You make my life difficult, and I'll have you spending the rest of your planer existence in pits of the Icy Wasteland. This blade has a central vein of ARG-71 that I can pump into your system at any time. Still with me?"

The Lavoid nodded curtly.

"Now," Duncan said. "What's your name?"

"…Argal," the Lavoid stuttered. Again, he could have coughed up blood if his diaphragm could still absorb the orders that the mind was commanding: flex, expel, clean…

"Argal, you know who I am?"

The Lavoid nodded again.

"Then I take it you know I'm perfectly capable of killing you?

One last time, the Lavoid nodded.

"Good," Duncan said, his tone flat. "Now we move on to the important stuff…" Duncan took the sword by two hands now, closing his eyes and extending his consciousness into that of the Lavoid. He extended the ethereal veil and scanned Argal's mind for any information that would prove useful. Staying in this state of trance for about thirty seconds, he finally withdrew his presence and released the Lavoid from his mental control. He slowly opened his eyes, making sure he understood what he found.

"So you assholes have recovered _2_ of the Eldarion that were lost in the Second Fall?" Argal didn't respond.

"Answer me," Duncan said coldly, twisting the sword slightly and stimulating every pain sensory nerve in the Lavoid's body. Argal screamed.

"Yes, we have two of them!" he blurted. "Just not the two that you would think." Argal managed a grin.

Duncan frowned. "Which two would I _think_ that you had?"

"The ones we held originally, of course."

"They aren't two of the ones the LEA gave you?"

"No, Lavoid Bane. We've come into possession of some different ones."

"From where?"

"I don't know."

"Liar." Argal was silent.

"Tell me," Duncan said again.

"Kill me."

"I'm going to."

"Then just get it over with," Argal spat. "I've told you what you came to find out. Pyriorias is behind it, I would assume, though you probably already knew that."

"Tell me why she wants them."

"The weapons?"

"No, the _other_ Crystain Holy Artifacts of the LEA," he said sarcastically.

"I don't know."

"Again, you lie."

"No, I speak the truth. I know not what Pyriorias plans. Now…are you going to kill me or are you going to withdraw your sword so I can regenerate these nerve endings and get on with my life?"

Duncan didn't answer. He closed his eyes took a firm grip on the sword. Dark winds began to howl and the sky started to streak with lightening. Argal could feel the massive quantities of Chaos swarming into the carvern. He knew what was coming. There was no mystery.

Duncan mumbled something under his breath, then the Chaos rushed out of the air into his control. There, it swirled maliciously, waiting for him to cast the spell.

"Lavoids that I see _never_ get to live," he said bitterly, focusing the energy of the spell into his hands, and then into the blade. 

"Lavoid Slave," he said flatly, the spell resolving and coursing through the Crystain blade with the force of a thousand battle ships. Black light streaked throughout the cavern, scourges of dark energy splaying around the body of Argal. The essentially pure Chaos energy tore through the Lavoid's being, short-circuiting his body and causing it to convulse in extreme pain. Chaos permeated every inch of the body, having been so effectively conducted through the sword. The Dreamstone that remained in the Dreamblade always was good for that; it was the very principle that the Mammon Machine had been built on. This energy was dispatched with a purpose though, and following the discharge was a white light…then stillness.

The wind stopped and the limp form of the Lavoid slid off of the blade, dead as could be. Duncan stood up fully, swung the blade downward to shake off the blood, and then sheathed the blade on his back.

He gazed around the chamber and turned on the com-link.

"Duncan to Vendetta," he said, touching his ear. "Copy dead Lavoid and diminishing Chaos energy?"

"Copy that, Duncan," Kyrie said. "Vendetta here."

"How's it look outside?" he asked.

"The remnants are running amok with nowhere to go. A lot of them were killed by the overspill of Chaos from the Lavoid Slave that they just couldn't handle. It should be a good clean up, if you don't want to wait for them to die off without their Chaos feed. There's too much energy residue near the shell at the moment for them to bother you, though."

"The Lemange will be good from this one. A nice haul."

"How much?"

"I'll be able to repair damages and probably invest in new Crystain weaponry. How fast was the kill time?" he asked.

"1.8 seconds," she answered. "Nice job. That's below Tyrion's record, still."

"Good," he said. "That'll show Lucent who's losing their edge."

While the fight may have actually seemed to take closer to twenty seconds from Duncan's vantage, this was due to the overwhelming presence that time manipulation played in his battles with the Lavoids.

The Winds of Time are probably the hardest of the ethereal energies to see. Since they _control_ time, they often move in and _out_ of time and even those attuned to them have difficulty gathering and using them. Thus, the natural absorption or ethereal energy that magic users have is dulled by the sparseness of the winds to begin with. In the galaxy, though, there were two species extremely good at manipulating the Winds of Time: the Lavoids and the Planeswalkers.

All of this probably was due to the fact they existed as beings from a dimension higher than that of time. Their natural absorption of Chaos energy had something to do with their innate talent at manipulating the Winds of Time, creating marvelous effects in the midst of battle. By speeding up themselves, slowing down their opponent or his projectiles, and freezing the motion of everything around them, effective Time Magic wielders can structure a complete fighting style simply around manipulation of ethereal energies that alter the flow of the time streams. It is these sub-battles over who controls the flow of time that monopolize much of the magical aspects of Lavoid/Lavoid or Lavoid/Planeswalker battles. 

"Anyway, send me down the LCMs (Lemange Collection Modules) and contact the rest of the Order. I'm going to have to call a meeting. Apparently these life suckers have had more planned for us then I thought. Worse off, every single one of my brothers is in danger."

"Copy that Duncan. LCM's on their way. I'll begin speaking with the others. Vendetta out."

"Fine," Duncan muttered after turning off the com link. "The bastards want to play hardball? We'll just see how they like my change-up…"

* * *

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	6. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Order Gathers 

_"I had seen in Duncan great promise for a warrior that would have the ability to outstrip any of those who stood in his way. I knew his father somewhat well, and I knew that if he had inherited even half of Lathain's ability in a fight, combined with just half of his mother's knack for prescience, he'd be able to give just about anything in the Multiverse a run for their money._

_"What ended up happening was that he was not just half the warrior and half the prophet, but perhaps twice the warrior and twice the prophet. Given the right training, there would be nothing that could bar his path, save Pyriorias herself. He would be an unstoppable machine, capable of mowing down lavoids with the ease of a Tritanium Arc-wave Generator through cardboard._

_"So who is Duncan McKlane? He is a particularly powerful planeswalker, heir to the Exterminatorum Adeptus, and possessor of enormous prophetic talent, gifted with amazing skills in the arts or war, and the caretaker of the stores of knowledge of the LEA; the semi-infinite knowledge database collected by my brother and sister Eternals and bestowed upon Lathain of Zeal._

_"Duncan's undoing will not be one of skill. Duncan will suffer from the same mental instability that his father once did, until he too is able to kill off much of his emotions. It will be over-analysis that eats at him and self doubt that destroys him. Similar to his father, the only thing that will be able to kill Duncan McKlane will most likely be Duncan himself."_

_-From the Memoirs of Lucia the Warrior_

.

Years Ago…

Duck, spin, up, parry! Duncan whirled around and caught Lucent's blade as the Eternal brought it down, then sidestepped to the left and lunged forward. Lucent easily parried the blade and swayed back to avoid Duncan's continuation.

They fought in a simplistic arena with a brown and gold tiled floor. The outside of the fighting area was open to a seemingly endless stretch of grassy hills. In reality, nothing here was actually real. It was an illusion generated by the magical fluxes in the Nexus, which is where Lucent often took Duncan to train.

The blades had been clashing for hours, neither combatant giving in. The sharp clang of metal on metal resounded through the halls of their training room, just as it had since the beginning of the day. Lucent, the master, and Duncan the student, had been locked in this session that was supposed to have ended hours ago. Or at least, it could have if Lucent wasn't going slightly easy on the boy. Most spectacular of all, though, was that young Duncan (possibly only fifteen or sixteen at the time) was wearing a blindfold over his eyes. His entire end of the fight was being conducted by hearing.

"Why am I wearing this stupid thing again, Lucent?" young Duncan asked, making another swipe and setting up for a riposte as Lucent countered.

"Fighters rely too much on their eyes, kid," the wise eternal said, slowly stepping back as he allowed Duncan to persist with a string of attacks. "In order to truly master the fight, the warrior must be at one with the battle." Cut, swipe parry.

"Basically," Lucent continued, "you need to learn to feel out with senses other than your eyes. You need to be able to feel the flow of the battle."

"I've been rocking _your_ flow all day," Duncan said arrogantly. Lucent let out a grin. "When do I get my vision ba—" before Duncan could finish his sentence, there was a flurry of blades and a whipping sound as Lucent picked up his pace, got completely past Duncan's defenses and had the hilt of his sword pressed up against Duncan's neck, breathing heavily on the young man's face.

"When you grow up, maybe," Lucent said, a cocky saunter returning to his voice. "And learn to use your powers for more than just show."

"Well," Duncan said, grinning widely. "I may be showy, but at least I still have my balls…" he motioned his head downward to where he was holding a knife tentatively by Lucent's crotch, having slipped it by Lucent's defenses in their close-quarters flurry.

"Hmph," Lucent said, frowning for a moment, then tipping the corners of his mouth up in a slight grin. He withdrew his sword and stepped back, saluting Duncan. After removing the blindfold, Duncan did the same.

"Don't get cocky," Lucent said. "Maybe I would have been castrated, but you would have been dead."  
  
"Well, at any rate, you wouldn't have ever been able to be _cocky_ again," Duncan joked. They both chuckled.

"You're too much like your father was when he was your age," Lucent said, sheathing his sword.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It eventually got him killed, of course."

"But that was when he was much older, was it not?"

"You planeswalkers…you don't seem to age like humans. Once you stop growing, it's almost as if you lock into a state of maturity that doesn't change. Sort of like being eternally twenty as far as personality goes. Your dad may have been fifteen hundred years old when he died, but he still acted like a kid when he wasn't killing lavoids. Maybe it's the Chaos energy that keeps you people acting so young."

"So his mentality was always the same?"

"Yes…always hasty, always reckless. To be honest, he was my kind of guy. That ballsy attitude I could respect. I could always take him in a fight, though…" Lucent chuckled to himself. Duncan pondered it for a moment.

"Am I condemned to that? Can I fight what's in my genes?"

"You can _fight_ whatever you want, kid," Lucent said. "It's what you can _beat_ that's different. They're two very different things. I wouldn't get your hopes up about beating what your genes tell you. It's what makes your people less than…well, less than the Eternals," he laughed to himself.

"Then I use what you teach me to fight what I can?"

"You can use what I teach you to _beat_ what you can, if you've been paying attention," Lucent said. "But I don't remember ever teaching you anything about fighting your genetic code."

"So I accept what I'm given?"

"You accept what you _want_ to accept. Sometimes you have a choice. God, why is this so damned complicated? Did I make you dizzy or something?"

"No, I'm just…"

"You're thinking too hard. You people aren't programmed for that."

"Hey, I'll have you know that a planeswalkers can—"

"Oh, can it, kid," Lucent said. "I'm just yanking you chain. Take a joke." Duncan crossed his arms and gave Lucent a dirty look.

"Fine," Duncan said, throwing aside the dagger that was still in his hand. "Now, lets get back to what we were doing. No swords this time. I've still got another seventeen styles that I was indoctrinated with last week and I need to practice them. Or, are you tired?" he egged on, raising his fists.

"Never tired enough," Lucent said with shrug, sliding his trench coat off, throwing it aside and raising his fists. "Now…have at you!"

.

Present Day

The Order of the planeswalkers typically gathered once a year to discuss maters pertaining to the species in a formal setting. The Order has also been known to be called together, though, in certain times of pressing need. A new Crystain weapon…new results with Chaos Magic experimentation…the world teetering on the edge of destruction…things like that.

Duncan, being one of the eldest (and certainly the most powerful) normally ran the meetings. They were typically held in a "Safe" zone, that is, an area towards the base of the Nexus where the proceedings were not susceptible to the meddling of foreign powers from within the Multiverse. In this safe zone they had actually constructed a fortress for their dwelling during the meetings of the Order. The Citadel of Black Wings -as it was sometimes called- was also the proverbial 'home' to all planeswalkers that wished to seek refuge there.

It hung in an area of empty space, the swirling energies of the Nexus hovering above it when one looked past the third dimension. Also around its planar location were the mists and space of the Beginning of Time, the observation point where the Marda took custodial care of the timelines. The citadel was some hundred stories high, the tallest tower culminating in a giant spire which acted as a hyper-powered magnet for Chaos energy used in the experiments that were often conducted there. There was an individual stateroom for each of the members of the Order, numbering some 150 planeswalkers, as well as quarters for anyone that they were traveling with. These companions, however, were not allowed in the Central Chamber.

The actual assembly was held in this Central Chamber: a large ornate room on the forty first floor of the Citadel. The room, its architecture dating back to the time before the Second Fall, seated all the members of the Order comfortably (and in expensive leather, none the less) in a semicircular chamber that surrounded a central speaking podium, as well as the chairs for the "leaders" of the Order.

While the congregation had no real government to it, there were several planeswalkers that were either appointed or elected to hold a certain semblance of moderation over the meetings. These "officials" sat in this central section on slightly raised platforms. The rest of the chamber itself was set in flights, each row of seats slightly above the one before it. The room itself had been designed to hold more planeswalkers than were members at the time of its construction. Even when all of the Order was in attendance, some seats remained vacant.

Calling the Order together was never so difficult, as in 3789 ES they had established a communication system allowing every planeswalker to be contacted when a meeting was being called. It had only been two days since Duncan had originally called the Order together, and already most of the Brotherhood had gathered at the Citadel of the Black Wings. The docking bays towards the based of the Citadel were already beginning to fill up with the ships of those who had arrived.

The collection of ships was quite a display. Spaceships, in an age of mass production and interstellar travel, were purchasable by any middle-class family. Many of them had been made cheap enough to completely replace what humans once called cars (since most transportation on a given planet was public). Like cars, though, they came in a wide array of shapes, styles, colors and price ranges.

Some ships were smaller, cheaper, and not as fast, maybe being likened to a Honda or a Saturn from Old Terra. Then, they ran up the line until you reached the most expensive ships owned by an individual. These, the Ferrari's and Lamborghini's of the modern age, were not only incredible performers, but symbols of status.

While some planeswalkers chose to live modest lifestyles, it was much more frequent to see a planeswalker in a position of wealth and power. They were a species that was, on the whole, faster and more intelligent, as well as more effective with manipulating people. Also, there were planeswalkers like Duncan who made lifetimes worth of fortunes in the Lemange trade. With more money than he knew what to do with, he often simply gave finances (or even ships that were given to him as gifts) to other planeswalkers. Ships like the Vendetta were some of the most expensive creations that an individual could own, save for "Vacation Worlds" sold to the ridiculously rich. All things considered and given the general wealth of the Order of planeswalkers, the ships that filled the docks of the Citadel of the Black Wings represented an extremely pricey selection of exotic Super-Ships.

The Council would be meeting in a day or so, once the remainder of members arrived. Those who were early were able to take advantage of the luxurious facilities and gourmet meals prepared by a small army of mechanized master chefs.

It was designed to be this way for a reason. If the Order was ever being called with exception to the yearly gathering, it was in a time of problems. Properly furnished rooms to sleep in and hand-to-foot service sometimes alleviated the heavy hearted feelings that whet along with these problems. A normal human may never have wanted to leave the citadel, as it could be likened to an expensive resort. Planewalkers, though, were not normal humans. Some of them had grown to hate the Citadel in fact, as meeting there typically meant realizing bad news or impending war and death. It was here that bad news came out, and no one, human or planeswalker, ever liked bad news.

.

Duncan currently rested in his own private room, his trenchcoat hanging haphazardly off of a chair worth many thousands of credits, his boots tossed aside, dirtying the silken carpets, and his form sprawled across the seven hundred and fifty thousand credit bed. His eyes were closed and he didn't appear to breath.

In a chair facing the fireplace that was set twelve feet from the foot of the bed, Kyrie sat with her legs crossed. In her hand was a portable computer which she used to go over the purchase of new weapons and repairs for the Vendetta. She wore a casual, close fitting brown tank-top and a pair of jeans that were ripped off three inches above the knees. She all but hated the extensively decorative robes and other garments that elves normally wore. A pair of mechanic's goggles hung from her neck and her hair was tied up in a loose bun.

"Do you have an estimated draw from the Lemange, yet?" she asked him she examined the price listings for parts that her computer was offering her.

"Not yet," Duncan said. "But try to keep the spending under the five hundred grand line. I don't know if it'll be more than that, yet."

"Got it," she said. "And by the way, you ever consider how much money was used to construct this place?" she asked Duncan offhandedly. The planeswalker opened his eyes.

"Far too much?" he asked. "I'm not actually sure. I wasn't responsible for designing the original plans. I suspect that the opulence of the place has only increased over the last millennium, though. To be honest, it's quite a waste of material."

"This from a man that sunk over fourteen billion credits into the ship the he flies around?"

"Yes, but that has a purpose," Duncan said, his face stiff. "I hardly consider myself a man who flaunts status when it is unneeded. It's not like I kept any of the luxury features equipped. I ripped them all out to fit bigger engines, remember?"

"I remember," Kyrie said. "I _have_ been the one that's been maintaining them for the last few months." She smirked.

"You suppose it's the most expensive one here?" he asked.

"Probably," she agreed passively. "And…" she hit a few buttons on her computer. "…When I'm done with this latest order, I think you'll be pleased."

"New goods on the market?"

"Vector came out with a new energy conduction-type weapon," she said. "They're about half the size of our current batteries, but with by using microtubules, they've actually kept the power the same."

"So…"

"So I'll use the extra space for new power couplings and generators, which could effectively double the punch. That is, unless you're still opposed to linking a Chaos drive to the weapons…" she raised a hopeful eyebrow.

"And create warp distortion cannons?" Duncan asked. "I think not. Let's keep away from Chaos weaponry. I like to even keep that drive silent if I can help it and you _know_ that."

"Fine," Kyrie said, slightly defeated. "Other than that, I'm just refilling our stocks of missiles, image recognition, heat seeking, homing and atomic, ordering new converters because the ones on the front left pulse cannons are burnt out, and looking into new forms of ammo for the vulcans." She hit a few more buttons, confirming the order, then closed the computer. Heavily, she rose from her seat and took one that was more close to the bed. She stared at Duncan for a few moments.

"Yes?" he finally asked.

"You don't look well," she said. "You look burdened." He managed a laugh.

"Any more than usual?" he asked.

"I don't know, really. I've just noticed it a lot these few weeks. It's more than just the Eldarion, Duncan. Something's dragging you down, isn't it?"

"I think I've always _been_ burdened, Kyrie," he said, half-seriously. "I cover it up better sometimes, but it's the burden of these damnable genes. It's the burden of one hundred and fifty men that have come here today, and it's the burden that our children will all have as well." Kyrie waited a moment before answering.

"You've….been working too hard, maybe," she said at length. "You've been through three Class A's in the last two weeks alone. If it wasn't a day that you were traveling, you killed at least one lavoid every day for the past month. You need a vacation. Don't you think you deserve it?"

"I've never tried to take them," he said. "It's because the fight is never over. There's no time for me to take a break. It's…become like a lust, though. The need to keep fighting them always pulls me back before I can get away."

"Has it always been like that?" He thought about it for a moment.

"For as long as I can remember," he admitted. There was a pause. Duncan passively rose from the bed and walked over to a cabinet on the eastern wall. Opening up a draw, he drew out a bottle of liquor and procured a glass from the shelf above the countertop. He poured the liquor into the glass and took a few ice cubes from a container, dumping them into the glass as well. Slowly, he tossed back the glass and drank half of the liquid in glass.

"You know, you still haven't told me what you're going to discuss in the meeting." she said, making conversation. "And since I don't get to go in there…"

"You sure haven't had this discussion with you, yet?"

"Nope," she said honestly. "You came back up to the ship and pretty much went immediately to sleep, you remember. You just told me to call the meeting. I've hardly even heard you speak these last few days. You'll have to excuse me if I worry about you, sometimes. You are, after all, my partner."

"You really shouldn't," Duncan said. "I'm not worth it."

"Are you getting manic-depressive on me? What makes you think that?"

"All I can do is fight…" he said. He threw back the glass, finishing the liquor, and rolled his neck around to look at her. "All my life, that's all I've been able to do. It's…not like I'm _unable_ to do other things, it just seems like I can't get away from this fight. It's like some sort of bloodlust…I just keep coming back."

"You never…tried to get away?"

"You know me, Kyrie. Time wasted in vacation is time that could be better spent. I don't believe in trying to get away." He refilled the glass with a slightly larger quantity than before. He put it on the counter top and took a second glass out of the cabinet.

"Why not?"

"Because my father tried that," he said, pouring another glass. "He _tried_ to get away. It was before he believed in Destiny. He tried to fight what the timelines were telling him to do. He tried to fight what Fate was insisting upon. It ended up nearly driving him insane before he finally accepted his role. I, on the other hand, don't have the luxury of trying to escape. Do you know what I mean? It's because I see things. I already know that there's a way and a flow to things. Why fight it? Combating the lavoids has been something that not only was I born to do, it's something I've been brought up to do. I can see the timeline, Kyrie. I know that's all there is for me." He handed her one of the newly poured glasses

"You never dream of something more?" she asked, taking a sip.

"Like what?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I certainly never expected my life to take me where it is now, but I always manage to hope for something more. I sort of hope for freedom from what we're doing now. You know, that someday we don't have to fight anymore, and I can grow old somewhere? I have to settle down eventually, you know?"

"Have a family?" Duncan asked in slight disbelief.

"Sure," she said. "Meet someone, maybe. I don't know. Something different than fighting all the time? You say that the only thing you know is fighting, but it's just because you've never tried anything else."

"And where have your travels taken you, Kyrie? Hadn't you been searching for a way to fight them before you met me?"

"I've been all over the place," she said. "I've seen the sights of the galaxy, after all. I didn't so actively fight the lavoids before we partnered up."

"And what _did_ you do before you met me?" he asked, half not believing that there was anything outside of fighting against his foresworn foes. "You've had it out for them since I met you when you were little. Destruction of your homeworld can do that to you, so it's understandable, but what did you occupy yourself with before you found someone to use the weapons that you make to fight them?"

"Moved around a lot, I guess," she said, somewhat dispassionately. "Trying to get away from home? I never liked my home much. Too many bad memories there."

"Have you gone back since?" he asked.

"…Once," she said, after a pause. "And even then I went back under false identity. I didn't want the homecoming celebration, you know? I just wanted to check up on people, not have them welcome me back. I knew I wouldn't be staying. That was….nearly a thousand years ago."

"It's a long time to go without being home, isn't it?" Duncan asked.

"So?"

"Well, that's how I've always been, too. Even here in this Citadel…this isn't my home. I don't even know what planet I was born on. We're drifters, Kyrie. We just wander in search of the next adventure."

"And those adventures had just happen to lead us to each other, I guess," she said, with a slight grin. "Two equally lost people with two equally lost causes." They both chuckled and took sips of their drinks.

"About your homeworld," Duncan said. "Tell me about it."

"It was…very peaceful," she said. "There were a lot of trees and water…and the cities were amazing. All the cities in the Dominion look the same. They seem to only hold the goal of fitting as many people as possible. The cities on Ithilian were all made with the goal of architectural display. You've never really seen beauty until you've seen an elven skyscraper…"

"And your family?"

"Just as dead as yours, I guess," she said. He didn't respond, and there was an awkward silence.

"Sorry…" Kyrie said after a few more seconds. "That was cold. I…forget that some people don't shirk it off like I do." Duncan didn't answer right away. He looked to the floor and swallowed down what was left in his glass. Again, he paused, closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her.

"I'm used to the cold…" he finally said, reaching for his trench coat and putting it on.. "I'm going for a walk…" He threw his coat on and walked out of the room, not looking back at her. By herself, she sat in thought.

_Swift, Kyrie_, she thought to herself. _Way to piss off the guy who's already under the stress of the entire galaxy. What's eating him out? His family was killed by a lavoid…just like mine. I feel like there's more to this, though. Lord, there has to be shit that happened to him that I don't even want to know about…_

She shrugged and rose from her seat, exiting the room and following Duncan, hoping to get to the bottom of what was bugging him.   
  
That's always how she was. If there was something bothering someone close to her, she wasn't about to leave it alone. Talking was the best way to solve a problem, she always said, and she figured that her task as his friend was to try and get him to talk about what was wrong and attempt making him feel better. But, she sometimes wondered if she wasn't as close to him as she thought. Duncan seemed to push things away that got too close. They had known each other for so long, yet he shied away from ever opening up to her with what he was thinking. That was no reason to give up on it, of course, but it sometimes made things more difficult. Then again, maybe he didn't want to open up to her because he was afraid of what she might find…

The corridor outside the room was long, so she could still see his figure down the way. She lightly jogged to catch up.

"Duncan, wait," she called. He paused and spun halfway around.

"What?"

"Don't go," she said. "Stay and talk. That was the first time we've sat and done something other than talk shop in months. We never talk anymore."

"Sometimes it's with good reason, Kyrie," he said. She pouted. Glancing briefly at her saddened face, he let out a sigh.

"Don't do that," he said.

"Do what?" she asked, a smile creeping out of the corner of her mouth.

"That pouting thing. You know I hate that."

"I'm not doing anything," she said again, reverting to her pout.  
  
"I swear," he said finally, shaking his head. He sighed again. "Follow me, then. I know a good place to go…"

.

Duncan took Kyrie to a place where he always made time to come by himself while he was at the Citadel. It was up by the highest spire on a walkway below the giant magic conductor that channeled Chaos energy into the Citadel's laboratories for experiments. The Chaotic energies were strong there, but the images of Chaos being conducted into the third dimension created an optical show that couldn't be matched by anything else in the Multiverse. And, speaking of the Multiverse, if one gazed into time-space, the swirling energies of the Nexus hovered above the spire, some of the light blending with that of the malignant forces of Chaos, creating an aurora borealis like none other.

"I trained Lucent from the ages of fourteen till fifty," he said. "Over thirty five years of instruction from the most complete collection of knowledge in the Multiverse. It was just a blink of an eye for him, sure, but my father had already killed over a hundred lavoids by the age I was when I finally left my training."

"What does this have to with anything?"

"Just think about it. My dad had been far on his way at the age I was still training."

"But you're stronger than he was, weren't you?" Kyrie asked. "Everyone that talks about you behind your back claims that you're stronger than your father was."

"Perhaps I am," he said. "But with that increased strength comes increased responsibilities. Or rather, _should_ come increased responsibilities."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at the Eternals. Look at Lucent. He's probably one of the ten most powerful beings in the Multiverse, yet he shirks off whatever responsibility should come with that power. He could have gotten rid of all the lavoids at this point, if he wanted to."

"Then why hasn't he? Why don't the Eternals fight with you?"

"Lucia once told me the reason…" he said, looking up to the Chaos magnet. "She told me that if they were to kill off all the beings that thrived on the suffering of others and the destruction of worlds, they would have to come after the _humans_ even before the lavoids." Kyrie didn't answer.

"It makes sense," Duncan continued. "Look what humans do to the worlds that they live on. Look what they do to each other. Look at the Dominion, for Iluvitar's sake. They've created nothing but a mess for themselves to live in, and who's to blame? Even the elves and the Elijiahians are guilty of benefiting from the suffering of others. In truth, there probably isn't a single living creature in this universe that doesn't do so. So what do we do?"

"…I don't know," she admitted.

"Nor do I," Duncan said, speaking as if he just secured a point. "Which is why all I can do is fight. The lavoids and their actions have brought me nothing but suffering through my entire life. I fight them not for the benefit of the Multiverse. If I were a pure benefactor as my father claimed himself to be, I too would have to seek to destroy the humans as well."

"I never looked at it like that," Kyrie said, looking down to the ground.

"It's the only thing I know how to do, Kyrie. But consider that for a moment. Consider what it must feel like to know that the only thing you excel at is killing other living things. To know that the only thing you are good at is adding to the circle of killing?" He asked the question with an eerie calm. No sign of emotional distress was visible.

"But you're doing people a good service! You save people from the destruction that the lavoids bring. You…saved me."

"Sometimes actions that are wrong have benevolent consequences, but do the ends really justify the means?"

"Do you believe they do?"

"The ends I achieve are different than how they appear. People think that my goal is to liberate planets and that I _reach_ it by killing. No one considers that saving people is more or less just a side effect that comes _from_ the killing. Granted, saving people is a good thing. I don't deny that, but I never feel like I kill to save. Every lavoid I kill, ever bit of information that I get…it leads me one step closer to finding a way to kill Pyriorias. That's always been my driving force. If I help people in the process, that's wonderful, but for ever planet that I liberate, consider how many lavoid _underlings_ die. Is it fair for them to die because they follow the instinct that the _one_ lavoid instills in them?"

"You've had a lot of time to think about this, haven't you?" Kyrie asked.

"Hundreds of years," Duncan said. "My individuality has had over a millennium to establish itself. I figured out what I _think_ about myself years ago." He looked at her. "Kyrie, you're very lucky in what abilities you have. You have the talent to design…to create." He looked back towards the magnet. "When the powers that you have been given are those of destruction, you can't help but ponder the destruction that you cause."

"Do you ever feel remorse for what you do?" she asked. He didn't respond. There was an awkward silence for a moment while he considered the answer…or perhaps just _pretended_ to consider the answer.

"No," he said at length. "Never. Even those underlings, those who are just following orders…I feel no remorse. Too much time on the battlefield has bled me of my remorse."

"How about the time you spent in the armed forces of the respective galactic powers?" Kyrie asked. "In that time, you were killing humans. Did you regret that?" He paused.

"Again, it's the same original question. I was enlisted in order to gain information about the military structure of the galactic powers that I served. The fact that I ended up killing was a byproduct of the means I was using to achieve an ends…" She didn't respond for a moment.

"You're heartless…" she said finally, a look of grief coming over her face.

"I…know," Duncan said. He winced and a small tear came down his cheek. He turned to look at her. "Now do you understand? Why I don't always want to talk? I can't help being how I am…it's my genes and my experiences. They made me this way." Kyrie looked at him briefly, then gazed back out into the nothingness.

"Yes…" she said. "I think I do understand. It's…what you don't like about yourself. It's why you keep distant. You're…sorry for it."

"I am sorry because I feel no sorrow," Duncan said, musing over the irony. "And that is perhaps the biggest pain of all…"

"But isn't just blaming it on your genes an excuse? Shouldn't you be trying to take control of your own feelings and figure things out for yourself, as opposed to just accepting genetic domination?"

He laughed.

"Another debate for another day, Kyrie," he said, grinning for the first time all night. "For now, I have a meeting to attend to." He walked past her, heading towards the door. After a few steps, though, he paused.

"We're not so much different, are we, Kyrie?" he asked. "When you boil things down to it…we _are_ more alike than it would seem."

"Perhaps that's why we've ended up together in this awkward coalescence," she said, managing a smile. "But, as you said, that's a different debate for a different day."

He nodded his head, and then walked back into the Citadel.


	7. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Problems Addressed 

_The Blood of the once powerful planeswalker Council ran more thin after the Second Fall. Of the five houses, only the Zealian line still possessed one closer than three generations to the original Council. Granted, there were more of them now, but intermarriage with humans had diluted the Dark Gifts that the species wielded. planeswalkers could never renew their blood, you see. Technically, all the 'pure' planeswalkers died in the Second Fall, those actually being of lavoid Born. Now, the families were more spread out and the power of the Houses was diminished with the loss of the 'pure.' Still, the genetic codes and variations of the original Five still existed, if not all in one place. lavoids didn't seem to birth planeswalkers anymore. After what the lavoid Exterminatorum Adeptus did to them, one couldn't blame them._

_-Gerard Clariot, Professor at the Magic Academy on Nova, in Lecture_

.

The reasons that all living planeswalkers didn't die in the Second Fall are unknown. From what it seemed, the adult planeswalkers were killed, while the children were saved. Whether or not there was rhyme or reason to this is part of the great question of why lavoids do the things that they do. But, by the time of the Second Fall, there were many more than the five originally liberated planeswalkers in the LEA.

Lathain was the only one to have waited so long to have children. Duncan was not conceived until right around the time of the Second Fall. The other four Planewalkers, however, all had fathered multiple children (Tyrion and his wife Lina had a total of eleven). These children represented the blood of the five families of planeswalkers. As the planeswalkers not yet freed from their parental bonds were all killed in the Second Fall (and the lavoids stopped using the Planeswalker-Epitorum Model to achieve genetic dominance after the rise of the LEA), it was only these five bloodlines that represented all living planeswalkers in the Multiverse.

Planeswalkers, as they were, came in three major categories. There were the True planeswalkers, those born originally from the energy of a lavoid inseminating a human female. Then there were the High planeswalkers, which were those born of a planeswalker and an Epitorum (Duncan was the last left of these). Finally, there were the 'normal' planeswalkers: the male offspring of a planeswalker and a non-Epitorum mate.

The five True planeswalkers had all been killed in the Second Fall. They were the ones that made up the planeswalker Council. Of their first generation of offspring, the High planeswalkers, only Duncan remained, as the others had all been killed in the Second Fall as well. Any others still alive were those of the 'normal' classification, the most powerful still four or five generations away from the Council in terms of purity in bloodline. Seven planeswalkers had survived the Fall: Duncan of the Zealian line, Hyrial and Teclis II of the Mandrake line, Tyrus of the Spelman line, Rydial and Korhil of the Arinthir line, and Caina II of the line of Andurion Xyris. Incidentally, they had been the youngest living planeswalkers at the time of the fall.

The strength of the blood differed, as the purity ranged from Duncan's (who was first generation) to Hyrial's (who was seventeenth generation), but there were those who still possessed strength of their family's idiosyncratic abilities. These bloodline traits usually stemmed from the unusual abilities that the particular Epitorum who mothered the line was bred for. The Mandrake line was known for its psychics, the Spelman line for its strong ability with Lifestream manipulation, the Xyris line for their chi magic and the Arinthians for their excellent healers. Then there was Duncan, possessed of the Zealian gift for prophecy, though he was the only one.

So the planeswalkers were divided into families of varying size. The largest being the Mandrakes, followed by the Xyrises, then the Spelmans, Arinthians, and finally the lone Zealian (for some reason, Duncan called his line the Zealian line as opposed to calling it the McKlane line). It was these families that met in the Order of the planeswalkers.

.

The air in the Chamber was hot. The passive absorbing of Chaos energy by the one hundred and fifty planeswalkers had a side effect of heating up the air. The Order knew this happened, and machines were constantly running to cool the room down, but the smell of Chaos was still there. It could not be avoided. The lights were kept dim in an attempt to avoid adding any more heat to the room than the planeswalkers were already creating on their own. Magical torches provided a dull aura of yellow-orange light in the room, just enough to allow the opulent murals on the walls to be seen.

The planeswalkers sat in their chairs, the room as full as it was going to be. They gazed towards the central dais where Duncan stood in a long red ceremonial robe that was tied at the waist with a wide band. His normal trench coat was put aside for this meeting and his sunglasses had been removed. He still wore his body armor under the robe.

Before him was the collected mass of the planeswalkers of the galaxy. He could scan the room and see the faces of old comrades and vague acquaintances. The audience provided a spectacle in its collection of blue hair, the aqua wave occasionally broken by those whose hair had been dyed (many of the planeswalkers that had entered the business world sought to keep their identity secret and typically took on hair of the brown or blonde variety).

To his left and right were the three other High Elders of the bloodlines. There had been four in the past, but Hyrial was the one who had been killed just recently, marking the death of one of the few remaining planeswalkers who had survived the Second Fall. The other three were powerful warriors and mages whom Duncan had fought beside in combat. They were the closest thing he had to friends (with the possible exception of Lucent and Kyrie) and they were the wielders of the Eldarion, a rite given to only the most highly revered.

He began the meeting by reaching to his side where he had sheathed the Dreamblade and drawing the weapon forward. He held it up for the gathering to see, then walked down from his podium and placed the weapon on an elegant table situated in front of the general assembly. The three other planeswalkers that had been seated around Duncan on the dais then also rose and drew weapons of their own.

One drew a pair of daggers, called the Ragnarokar. Their hilts were made of gold tendrils that wound in serpentine patterns and were studded with silver crests. Their blades, about nine inches long, were made of milky blue Crystain and infused Adamantine. The wielder was Tyrus Spelman, descendent of Teclis.  
  
Tyrus was, like his ancestor, an extremely talented wizard; he was one of the few left who actively researched into Chaos Magic. He was tall and thin (though you couldn't tell through his robes) and had long, straight blue hair that was tied into ponytail at the base of his neck. He followed Duncan and placed the Ragnarokar on the table next to the Dreamblade.

The next lifted up a double edged sword about two and a half feet long, one inch wide, and perhaps a few millimeters in thickness. The intricate blade appeared to be mostly some form of alloy with a thin vein of Crystain traced down the middle. This sword was the Kirausame, once having been wielded by Elithor Arinthir. His eldest great grandson, Rydial Arinthir, now carried it and placed it next along with the Dreamblade and the Ragnarokar.

Rydial emitted the air of royalty, in contrast to the dark brooding aura that seemed to follow Tyrus around. He was a proud heir to the Arinthir line, and they were kings on their own planet. He was of generous height and of a firm, strong build. His long blue hair was allowed to flow freely down his back and his dark blue eyes marked him different from the others (who shared the amethyst coloring typical of a planeswalker). One thin scar traced its way from above his left eye down to just above his mouth, and another graced his right cheek.

The third and final planeswalker to rise brought forward a thin blade with elegant hilt work that utilized gold, sapphire and ruby. While the blade was only a quarter of an inch wide, so much care had been put into its forging that it was sharpened to a mono-molecular edge on both of its Adamantine coated sides. It was the Sky Tracer, the favored assassination weapon of Andurion Xyris. The wielder was Caina II, descendent of the famous planeswalker. He placed the weapon on the table with the others.

Caina was the shortest of the four Elders, though he still stood at about five feet, nine inches. He was possessed of unkempt blue hair which reached just passed his shoulders. Still, in his smaller body lay the speed an agility of an expert assassin that followed in the footsteps of his ancestor. Aside from Duncan, he hunted lavoids most frequently of the Order of the planeswalkers.

Slowly, the four elder planeswalkers returned to the dais and took their respective seats. The audience sat in silence as Duncan eventually rose.

"Good evening," Duncan began, addressing the crowd. There was a mumbling of response. "I apologize for having to call you all here on such short notice, but a few things have come to my attention in recent events which I felt should be opened for the Order to discuss." He gazed around at the congregation, scanning for the faces of the stronger, quick-witted planeswalkers that would come to his call for assistance.

"You'll note that one is missing from our platform," he said dimly, turning things to the dour note that they would most likely stay on. "Our brother Hyrial is missing and presumed dead. There is no sign of the Eldarion which he was carrying, and we suspect the Dominion is at fault. _This_ is why I have called this meeting."

There was muttering from amongst the crowd, as news of Hyrial's disappearance and supposed death had apparently not reached far.

"Hyrial was going about standard business in the Beta Quadrant when reports seem to indicate that his ship was overrun by a fleet of Dominion Vessels using cloaking technology," Duncan continued. "Having visited the wreckage of his ship and having to fend off the salvagers, it seems that he was boarded and taken forcibly using Crystain Weaponry. It may have been possible that his attacker turned the Eldarion he was carrying on him. And, we all know that the Eldarion are not only hold a lot of importance to us…but they are also very good at killing things which use Chaos energy.

"Now, the Dominion may be in possession of two of them. The lavoids are also still in possession of one, as well. Our enemies have three and we are down to four. We don't know where they are, who is carrying them, or what the intent of the wielder is. Brothers…the situation is dim

"They could hunt us down one by one!" a voice called out from the crowd. It was that of Bradius Xyris, a younger planeswalker from the Union. "And those wielding the Eldarion would be the first targets!"

"We are to be on alert because of this," Duncan said.

"Why continue to risk the Eldarion?" another voice, Ulitar Mandrake, called. "Why not keep them where they are safe?"

"Safety is rather subjective to change in this age," Rydial said, raising his voice. "Even this Citadel is not completely safe from a Farilii Hunter-Killer that may or may not be carrying one the Eldarion. The elite assassins of the Queens can get where they need to be. Even the Dominion has men trained that are capable in the stealth arts."

"And these Hunter-Killers are skilled enough to give most of those here a run for their money," Caina uttered. "We planeswalkers are not the invincible race that we once were. Many of us have fallen out of training…out of focus."

"Then give the Eldarion to someone who can keep them safe!" someone called.

"Give them to Duncan!" another said. There was a growing murmuring in the crowd. Duncan closed his eyes while the three other Elder planeswalkers exchanged glances of uncertainty. The murmur in the crowd grew into a din, and eventually people in the audience rose from their seats and started arguing with each other. The noise grew until Duncan finally spoke.

"Quiet!" he boomed. The crowd hushed. Duncan glanced around, and those who had risen took their seat again.

"I will not take such responsibility," he said. "Keeping the Eldarion in one place is as much a folly as leaving them open to take." The other Elders seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"But they would be safe with you," called out Juria Arinthir. "You're the strongest here."

"And with that strength comes responsibility," Rydial said to Duncan in a low voice. "But what will you do with that responsibility?"

"Strong as I am," Duncan said to the assembly. "I also put myself in harm's way more than most of you." There was some agreement within the crowd. "To allow me to carry all the Eldraion would be foolhardy." He paused to gaze around the room. "This is most especially true because Emperor Cain would have me dead more than anyone else present here," he continued. "He still seeks to take vengeance for the murder of his son that my father is credited with. To do this, I suspect he is gathering the Eldarion in order to hunt me down."

"Why do you tell this to us, Duncan?" Kala Spelman asked. "What good does this information do us?"

"Because in addition to wanting to warn you all, I also ask for you assistance in an undertaking I want to pursue." He said. "I need you help in killing Emperor Cain before he can attempt to kill me."

Silence.

The room didn't move. The breath of each individual planeswalker could be heard.

"Duncan…." Caina said. "You know that not a single one of us carries any sympathy towards the Dominion, but isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Consider what he wants from us," Duncan said. "While it's clear that he has it out for me, I suspect he'd wish vengeance on everyone in this room. It was the LEA that tore his Empire to shreds centuries ago. He harbors no benevolent feelings towards planeswalkers. If anything, he fears us. He knows we can easily surpass his Wanderer race. To that extent, he would seek to destroy us."

"What would you have us do?" called out Illian Mandrake.

"Information," Duncan said. "And connections. They've long since updated their security systems since I acquired access clearance years ago. I need those of you with information webs greater than my own to help me find out where he is, what he's doing, when he's doing it, and how I can get past securities. I feel if we remove Cain, life will be safer for all of us."

"Why you?" someone called. "And why _only_ you?"

"One person is easier to get past securities," Duncan answered. "And as you said, I'm the most capable one here…"

A silence fell over the room. Those listening took the time to consider the magnitude of what Duncan was suggesting. The implications…the _complications_ of killing the man who ruled the largest Galactic Power in the known universe…they were staggering. Things would probably grind to a halt in the Dominion, and extreme retaliation would be targeted towards anyone linked to the assassination. Was Duncan good enough to do it without being caught…or would Duncan, in his pride, want people to know that he was responsible?

"I know a guy…" came the voice of Orphius Arinthir. It was said softly, but the silence in the room seemed to feed into his voice and amplify it to the point of being uttered loudly.

"And?" Duncan asked. Orphius rose.

Orphius was a reasonably well-built man: trim but firm. He had short blue hair and dark blue eyes, the eye coloring being a trait of the Arinthir line. He was well dressed in rich robes of blue and yellow, a crest on his left arm signifying membership in the Inter-System Trade Union of Merchants, or ISTUM for short. He was a well-known trader in some rather respectable wares, most notably fabrics and spices from the Mystican Empire (which were very difficult to get into the Dominion). But, it was known by nearly everyone in the Chamber that he was also the leader of the black market for Lemange, the mind-altering and life-extending drug that was synthesized from the magical residue left on the inside of a lavoid's central bio-chamber.

For that reason, it hardly surprised people that he might "know a guy."

"It's someone who gets information for me," Orphius said slyly. "Kind of an source, if you will."

"What can he get for _me_?" Duncan asked.

"Well, if you need information about Cain and where he's gonna be…that would be a start." Duncan considered the option.

"How long?" he asked.

"Maybe a week once I ask him to get it? Possibly faster. He's a little difficult to deal with at times, but he's definitely good. We'll leave it at that."

"And how quickly can you get in touch with him?"

"Tonight, if you want."

"What do you want out of it?"

"You just killed a Class A, didn't you?" Orphius asked, grinning slightly. Duncan eyed him with a stare that could have petrified the most hardened Dominion Special Ops agent. Orphius laughed.

"Kidding, Duncan. Only kidding," he said. "After all, Cain has been more of a hard ass lately with cracking down on the transport of the Lemange. I've been receiving messages that indicate that he wants a cut of the profits in order for me to continue doing business. Basically, hardly anyone in this galaxy would be more thrilled with his death than I."

"Good," Duncan said simply, letting out his breath. He slowly took his seat. "I have no more to say. If anyone has anything address, now would be the proper time. It is rare that we are all here, after all."

No one raised their hand. Silence came over the Chamber again and air was still.

"If I may?" Rydial said finally, standing up. Duncan nodded curtly and Rydial took the podium. He gazed over the audience briefly before speaking.

"We are vulnerable, fellow planeswalkers," he said dimly. "While our numbers have grown, our blood is thinned. We have lost the edge on the Dominion that we had in the strength of the LEA. The Organization, the discipline, and the weapons are no longer at our disposal. In the sincerest wishes for your safety, I urge all of you to try to remember the warrior's honor possessed by our species in times long ago. Remember what it feels like to use Ether and to feel Chaos. Forgetting those things is detrimental to our identity and our safety.

"Not everyone here has to follow the path that Duncan or the rest of the Elthariji has chosen. In these times, he is indeed the minority. I don't ask you to fight, but to simply remember the time when all that we did was to fight. Remember the time that we had no home…no purpose…no future. We've come far in the world, Brothers, but let us not forget our roots…"

"Well said…" Duncan said to Rydial, quietly enough so that no one else heard. "And very true." He rose.

"I will see the members of the Knights of the Round in the private meeting chamber in half an hour," Duncan said, speaking from his seat. "The rest of you are dismissed. I appreciate your attendance, and please…contact me if you hear anything regarding the Eldarion or movement in the Dominion Forces." He breathed deeply. "That is all..."

As a collected mass, those in audience began to rise and head towards the exits. The meetings of the General Assembly were normally slightly longer than this one, as there was really only one point that Duncan wanted to bring up. The meetings, however, wouldn't stop. Different sub-groups of planeswalkers would be meeting probably for the next three or four days. Some of it was business and some of it was just catching up with old friends. There were many smaller audience and meeting rooms in the Citadel designed for just this purpose, so it was hardly a hardship finding space.

The meeting that Duncan had called was the group of the most powerful planeswalkers still alive. The Knights of the Round were the 13 strongest, and typically eldest, of the planeswalkers. They were also most of the only remaining planeswalkers that had an active campaign against the lavoids still in operation. They were the last remnants of the fight against Chaos…the shattered remains of the LEA without the warships and without the masses.

They were also the Elthariji, the last of the planeswalkers to follow the LEA warrior's code of Orichalcon. They followed the simple principle that no lavoid seen by an Elthariji may live, or the planeswalker is faced with dishonor. The code placed honor and duty as the rules by which to live, and dishonor could only be forgiven by rectifying ones mistakes five-fold. The code also placed hand to hand combat as the most sacred of rituals and the only proper way to kill a lavoid if it could be helped. As a result, they all were ruthlessly proficient in the art of the Black Wind: using the Black Wings as a weapon focused through the device they wore on their forearms called a Cauxion. Recently, the Cauxions had been altered to include the TEARS system, making them a variant on the T-Blade just like the one that Duncan used in his hunts.

The Black Wind was a style of combat devised by Lathain of Zeal around the founding of the LEA that centered around the use of Chaos as an attack in close quarters combat. Using the Blade of Chaos, called the Ragna Blade or Laguna Blade by some wizards, they easily brought most lavoids to their knees.

Their battle with the lavoids was not one as pursued as that of the LEA. They concerned themselves more or less with monitoring the lavoid activity in various sections of the Galaxy and acting accordingly. While a force to be reckoned with, their overall power sadly paled when compared to the might of the planeswalker Council (though many contended that Duncan alone would have been capable of taking on all five of the True planeswalkers at once; Duncan denies this fervently).  
  
The meeting began roughly half an hour after the conclusion of the general assembly. They met in the High Council Chambers, the meeting room that had been the designated place for the Knights of the Round to meet since they had been founded over one thousand years ago. The room, kept just as extravagant as the Central Chambers, was walled by polished marble and adorned with rugs, tapestries, statues and pillars of designs representing an eclectic portion of the known Galaxy. A table of dark Ferawood from Union Craft Worlds was the centerpiece of the room. It was surrounded by black chairs with leather coverings. Nothing sat on the table itself.

The group filed in, taking their seats (six to a side) with Duncan at the head of the table. No one ever sat at the opposing head. They all wore robes of black, very similar to those that the Rydial, Tyrus and Caina wore. Duncan, in the position of authority, still wore his red ceremonial robe.

As they sat down, one of the servo drones rolled into the room and distributed cups and saucers, promptly filling them with coffee. The lights of the room flickered on, dull yellow light emanating from florescent bulbs built into the ceiling. The candle motif of the Central Chamber didn't seem necessary here.

Duncan opened the meeting up as he normally did.

"Abidius recorendum istari cocertum lavoidius excentera," he said, meaning _Welcome those who wish the destruction of the lavoids._

"Ereferendi Iluvitar nuembre il periciapa de dari illitharia lei endariale oriolorias le dejarium de certuavi," the others responded, meaning: _In Iluvitar's name we stand at the edge of darkness to shake the heavens and defeat the foes of life_. It was the traditional greeting and response to a meeting of the planeswalker Council of the LEA, and Duncan had extended it to what little he left to call a "planeswalker Council."

"Welcome back," Duncan said, returning to the normal tongue. "I don't have too much to speak of, but it was important that we should all meet."

"The matter of the Eldarion in possession of the lavoids?" Caina asked. Duncan nodded.

"While I hardly think they would act in collusion with the Dominion…the fact remains that when I killed the Class A on Ygral VII and searched his mind, I found that the lavoids are actually in possession of two of the Eldarion. And, at least one of them is not the weapon that they recovered after the fall. You know, the ones that the LEA had given them in the War?"

"So where did it come from?" Rydial asked.

"I don't know," Duncan said. "The possibilities are that it could be the one we thought was still in the Union, it could be the one we gave to the Eldar, or…" Duncan paused.

"Would it be possible that the Dominion was working in collusion with the lavoids and this lavoid was actually talking about Hyrial's weapon?" asked Elithian, a weapons fanatic and impeccable marksman from the Arinthir family. "If they were working together on this, then both the Dominion and the lavoids might lay claim to it."

"I highly doubt it," Duncan said. "But, there is always a possibility." He sighed. "For now, though, if it's not one of the Eldarion that the LEA received in the war, then it's probably the one that we gave to the Union, and they've stolen it."

"And killed a whole bunch of Unionites in the process…" Caina mused.

"We're worried, though, aren't we?" Tyrus asked.

"The situation regarding Farilii Hunter-Killers that Rydial brought up is actually quite pressing," Duncan said. "Without the equipment, they are not as much of a threat. However, with an Eldarion…we know that they can kill us…even the thirteen of us in this room. Crystain is just as deadly to us as it is to them…"

"And as inspiring as your words wore, Rydial," Caina said, "I fear that the majority of the Order will not simply go and teach themselves to relive within the code of Orihalcon."

"It's because our blood _has_ grown thin, Caina," Tyrus said. "These planeswalkers have been normal members of a society that hasn't been at war for the last thousand years. Not only have they lost their will to fight, they may have lost a lot of the genetics that gave us the will to fight.

"How so?" questioned Alindir, a powerful wizard from the Spelman line.

"See, the lavoid Factor is normally passed down in full to each new generation," Tyrus said. "We know that this defies the genetic laws of segregation, that is, that each gene will enter a gamete separate of any other gene. Segregation normally creates genetic variation. Our lavoid Factors, though, enter the gametes with all of the genes normally contained within them. For most of us, we maintain the five hundred or so genes that make up the lavoid Factor found on our Y chromosomes, and we will pass down this set of genes to our male offspring.

"Given a long enough time, though, genetic material starts to decay, and the farther we go from our ancestral lavoid parentage, the harder it may become for the lavoid Factor to maintain its bond during the crossing over phase of meiosis…that is, the lavoid Factors might start to break up during meiosis. We see this in that while no planeswalker is inherently weak, we know that generally the closer he is to the lavoid in his family's lineage, the stronger and more plentiful the gifts of Chaos will be with him.

"I hardly predict that we will be a dead species any time soon, and our progeny will probably still be able to channel the energies of Chaos…but thousands of years ago, we had the will to fight ingrained into our very genetic code. Now, that will is dissipating as the gifts of Chaos grow weaker. We are losing our genetic strength, and the need to fight has been gone for centuries. Unless something is done, we are looking at the future descent of the planeswalker species."

The room sat in silence for a few moments.

"So let us start a war," said Teclis II, an extremely powerful tri-psych from the Mandrake line. "Let us renew the urge to fight!" he said, landing a fist upon the table which shook the coffee cups briefly.

"No," Rydial said stiffly. "You remember what happened last time something of that caliber was attempted. Half of the Order completely ignored the Call to Arms."

"I was there, Rydial," Teclis retorted. "I fought with you in the Second War of Ascension. I know it didn't work. Perhaps it needs to be approached differently."

"It's because these planeswalkers haven't been born into war as those of the LEA were," Duncan said. "Even the eldest ones here…myself, Rydial, Caina and Tyrus…we were mere children and infants when the Second Fall ended the crusade of the LEA.

"So what is there left for us to do?" Caina asked. Again, the room fell silent. After a few moments, though, Duncan spoke.

"I know Pyriorias is at the bottom of whatever plot the lavoids are formulating with the Eldarion," he said. "The lavoid on Ygral VII told me this." Duncan stood up to attract the more compete attention of the table.

"And you all know that I vowed long ago to kill her and avenge the death of my immediate family," he continued. "However, now it appears that Pyriorias presents a threat to what family I have left."

"You needn't say any more, Duncan," Tyrus said, holding out a hand. "When the time comes for you to fight Pyriorias, we will be behind you in whatever way you need." There was general concession from around the table. Duncan lowered his head.

"Thank you," he said. "I will need whatever help I can get." Rydial looked at him.

"You're not…losing your confidence, are you? Duncan?" he asked.

"You're the second person to ask me that this week, Rydial," Duncan said, chuckling. "And it's not a matter of confidence, it's a matter of impossibility. I simply have no way to deal with the God-cursed bitch at this point. I just don't know what I'll do."

"You'll figure something out," Caina said. "You always do." Duncan sighed.

"You know?" Duncan asked. "That's exactly what my mother told my father…right before he ended up vaporizing just about everything that Chaos touched. I certainly hope that my fate does not lead to the same thing…"

.

Nova, Dominion Capital

Emperor Cain paced through the halls of the Imperial Palace. On his left walked his head advisor, Multani. At his right was Yral, the High Councilman from before. The three men moved swiftly through a passage with a high vaulted ceiling and walls and support struts made of dark stone. The floors were covered with red rugs, and torches generously illuminated the room. The Palace was kept with a very ancient feeling, always serving to remind those in it of their roots on Terra: the birthplace of humanity.

"He's killed another," Yral reported. "A Class A on Ygral VII." Yral was a relatively shorter man, perhaps only five foot seven. He was thinly built and almost looked to frail. He was possessed of a thin nose, low forehead and narrow chin.

"His power seems to have no limits," Multani grumbled. "Granted, he's done worse, but it still is impressive none the less." Multani dwarfed Yral, standing at a rather large six foot four. His broad shoulders and powerful stride marked him as one of the most deadly men in Cain's employ, an accolade he was quite proud of

"It's nothing new for him," Cain said passively. "We've seen him kill Class A's before, even at this speed that you report."

"Faster than 1.8 seconds?" Yral asked.

"Ludicrous, isn't it?" Multani questioned. "He truly would be better off dead."

"Yral says he can take care of the rest."

"Are you so sure?" Multani asked Yral, skeptical.

"Quite. The scientists have been working on it. They seem to think it will work. Nanotechnology is a wonderful thing, after all."

"I still doubt that science can beat such a perfect killing machine. I think the only way to defeat him properly is in single combat."  
  
"Don't let your pride get the best of you, Multani," Cain said. "We'll take any way we can get at this point. Plus, we might even learn something as a result."

"How will you get him to come?" Yral asked.

"We'll give him something he simply can't resist," Cain said. "Me."

"As a target?" Multani asked.

"Yes."

"Sir, I must point out that-" Multani started.

"I'm perfectly capable of fending for myself, Multani," Cain said. "I haven't survived this long just by luck. Plus, Yral thinks that this device will work…" Yral smirked and Multani gave him a dirty look.

"Duncan is…very good at what he does," Multani said, almost in concession. "It would be foolish to take a risk that is unneeded." Cain stopped walking.

"Don't you realize though that it is needed?" Cain said as Multani and Yral both stopped as well, spinning around to face him.

"It's needed for more than just peace of mind," Cain continued. "It's needed to put to rest a dishonor that his blood has forced me to carry with me for hundreds of years. To have one's son murdered in cold blood and to be unable to do anything about it…do you have any idea how crippling that is? No. This is a needed result. In fact, it is a damn well _required_ result, and I will have nothing but success. I will not rest until the last of the Zealian line is dead and buried, and now all that is left of them is Duncan. Pyriorias did a good job of getting rid of Lathain for me, but Duncan still needs to go.

"Listen closely, Multani," he said darkly, narrowing his eyes and beginning to raise his voice. "This is not a risk. This is a necessity, and it will be done, else I'll have every single one of my advisors' heads on a stake, then put them up for display in the Perennial Commons!" When he finished, his voice echoed in the halls. No one answered.

"Let's go," Cain finally said, beginning to walk again and passing by the two advisors. They in turn began to walk after him.

"I want to give a address somewhere open…somewhere vulnerable," Cain said. Let it be leaked that I'm intending to do so, and we'll wait for him to come."

"Where to?"

"The planeswalkers that we monitor…" Cain said. "They've all been moving towards the same place over the last few days, right?"

"Correct," Yral said.

"That means the whole group of them are meeting somewhere," Cain said thoughtfully. "They probably are discussing something important. Perhaps it is something to do with the lavoids. Regardless, we know there will be some communication amongst them." He paused in thought.

"Orphius…" Cain said at length. "Who's his man?"

"You mean Taggart?" Multani asked.

"His informant, yes," Cain said.

"Rei Taggart," Multani confirmed.

"Right. If Duncan is looking for information, then he'll probably go through Orphius. That Lemange trader has a strong information network…so I want Taggart to find out about the address I'll be making on Junum III in a week. It's the one addressing new power sources. If I recall, the Junum Imperial Amphitheatre is an easy target for an act of terrorism, and I'm sure Duncan will know this too. He'll come after me there, and then we act."

"Consider it done, Highness," Yral said, bowing.

"I want the device ready by then. Do not, gentlemen, and I repeat, do not fail me, or perhaps I will have to place your heads on stakes regardless…"


	8. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Ceremony

_4 for the Galactic Powers   
For time that he would bide_

_4 for the lavoid Scum  
To eat them from both sides_

_4 to the Other planeswalkers  
To kill them they did strive_

_And one for Lathain himself  
With the coming of the tide   
Till hidden power was awoken  
And Duncan was born alive_

_ -Rhyme of the Eldarion._

.

Back at his residence, Duncan had sought to quench the woes of the meeting with a long shower under steaming water. The water had done him well, and his muscles were soothed. He exited the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist, caught by surprise to find Kyrie sitting on his bed. She looked up over her reading glasses, momentarily diverting her attention from the book that lay in her lap.

"I didn't expect you to be here," he said, slightly conscious of his nudity. "You said you were going for a walk." She smiled faintly.

"You know, months of working together and this is the first time I've seen you without a shirt on," she said. "You certainly don't make a habit or walking around topless."

His body was very pale, as most planeswalkers were. It was, however, chiseled out of impenetrable rock, his muscular definition easily defined as "perfect" by most standards. A wide black tattoo encompassing a series of spikes entwined itself around his right bicep and a tattoo of the Zealian rune for "No Fear" was drawn on his left shoulder blade. Kyrie, however, was more caught by the fact that all across his chest and back were long, dark scars etched in criss-cross patterns. She stared at them for a few seconds, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"How did you get those, Duncan?" she asked. He lowered his head and quickly looked around for something to put on. Finding a brown robe flung over a chair, he snatched it and wrapped himself in it.

"Don't like to talk about it…" he said quietly. Then, looking up, "You don't ask a veteran about his battle scars. He'll normally tell you on his own if he doesn't mind reliving the cause of them…"

"I see…" she said, closing the book and rising from her seat. She removed her glasses, folded them, then placed them in a pocket in her pants. "So then will we be off soon?" she said, changing the subject.

"Yes," he said. "I'll be meeting with a man that Orphius knows. He should have the information I need."

"When?"

"Hopefully not more than a few days. I suggest you try and make yourself comfortable here while you can."

"And until then you'll be doing?"

"Probably meeting at some point with Rydial. We are supposed to battle with each other while we're both here. Also, Tyrus needs the most recent magical research that I've picked up from Aristrand." He chucked. "Well, I guess recent is kind of the wrong word, as I only track the guy down once every hundred years or so, but I haven't shared the newest spell library with him yet."

"Are there other additions to the database?" she asked. "You did meet with Lucent, after all. Did he have anything interesting to share with you?"

"Just that he might have preferred if I didn't move ancient LEA computer databases from before the Second Fall to a point in time where the information shouldn't exist."

"The Raziel?"

"It worked out fine. Don't worry. There don't seem to be any paradoxes created."

"You can be sure yet?"

"I am a farseer, after all, Kyrie," he said. "I have the advantage of not having to wait and find out if paradoxes will appear."

"I sometimes forget," she said. "It's odd to ponder what it must be like to comprehend the timestream in the manner that you see it."

"It's definitely something else," he said. "And it certainly took me long enough to master it."

"The gift from your mother…"

"She was good at it," Duncan said. "That's for sure. She had her weaknesses, though, namely, her feelings for my father." He lowered his head. "They sometimes clouded her visions.

"Emotions…get in the way," he said, as if in hindsight. "That's how I've survived for so long doing what I do. There comes a point where you have to kill most of your emotions in order to live on when you're in my line of work."

"I haven't killed any of mine, Duncan," she pointed out. "And I've been alive for almost as long as you have."

"Maybe you have and you just don't know it?" he said mysteriously.

"I'd know," she said introspectively, looking back to her lap. "I'd feel something like that. Trust me…I know when I'm running from something."

"Is that so?"

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't."

"Touche." he said. There was a pause.

"Speaking of which," she said, his last word lingering in her ears. "Why fight with Rydial. Aren't you above practicing with just about everyone but Lucent at this point?" Duncan shook his head.

"Never," he said. "First, it's more about tradition than it is about training. Second, assuming that I was too strong, there's always the fact that I will not be using prescience in such a fight. Not considering my speed, you have to remember that a good deal of why I'm so effective in hand to hand combat is my ability to read into the future. See, reading only gets harder the farther you try to look. This is because the farther down you look, the more expanded the Multiverse has become. Looking at what is basically the instantaneous future, however…"

"And no one can ever hit you," Kyrie finished his sentence. "You always know what their next move is going to be and are able to anticipate it, blocking it."

"But our ceremonial battles are all done in the form of-"

"Bakura," she said, cutting him off again to finally show that she was not completely green in this field. "The ancient fighting style of the planeswalkers. The form of combat utilizing planeshifting and time bending, integrating it into combat with the Black Wings formed into a single blade, and often including discharges of Chaos energy upon contact. It was designed by your father, was it not?" He nodded.

"That's correct," he said, smiling at her knowledge. "See, my mother designed the prescience-wielding fighting style that I typically use. We called it Shogunara. It turned out to be so effective that when they cut magic out of the equation, my mom could give my dad a run for his money in a sword fight, simply by knowing where to block and when. While I use a blend of Shogunara and Bakura against the lavoids, amongst planeswalkers, we fight in the traditional form of strict Bakura.

"So it's almost _completely_ matter of ceremony, isn't it?"  
  
"That's right."

"And you planeswalkers still hold so much of the ancient stuff holy," she observed.

"Not that many of us that still follow the Code," Duncan said. "In fact, very few of us. Only the Knights of the Round…"

"Your other Warrior Brothers."

"The Elthariji. There were once a small army's worth. Now there are only thirteen of us. We're the last that still follow Orichalcon, the Code of the LEA." He gazed whimsically into space.

"What does it mean?" she asked. "The word…what does it mean?"

"It was a weapon that supposedly killed a great lavoid in the time of the Sraphites and Draconians. It earned a reputation as being a killer of lavoids, and so our code is named after it. It is, after all, the code that dictates how we deal with the lavoid race."

"But, from what I've seen, though, you never seemed to follow any code of honor when you go through lavoids. You've killed LEBC's using just about everything, often from behind. How is there any honor in that?"

"I'm not talking about a code for the LEBC's, Kyrie. Just the lavoids themselves. Think about it."

"Oh…" Kyrie said in thought. "I think I get it."

"We kill LEBC's anyway that's necessary. They're mostly pretty easy. Guns can do a lot of the work with that, since there's no need to cast any sort of spells other than to simply kill them on a wider scale. It's the lavoids that we deal with according to the code."

"…Always in hand to hand combat," Kyrie said. "I _have_ noticed that. Even when you need to kill them with a spell, you normally cast the spell through the Dreamblade. It's because of the Dreamstone, isn't it? Its…properties?"

"That's what all the Eldarion were designed around, in fact," Duncan said. "They all incorporated Dreamstone into their blades because they were supposed to act like superconductors for Chaos energy, channeling magic used to kill the lavoids. The Phase Swords did that too, it's just that the Eldarion are like hyper-powered versions of them."

"Interesting…" she muttered. Then, looking up, "What else?"

"The laws of the Brotherhood," Duncan continued. "A planeswalker before any other. One for all and all for one, and that sort of thing. We know we're basically an endangered species, so we not only fight against Spawn of Chaos, but for survival as well. With the increasing dilution of our bloodlines, we swore to protect our fellow brothers." He paused and closed his eyes.

"That Hyrial was killed was a mistake," he said dimly. "We grieve for him because we realize that we are all partially at fault in not stopping his death. I, who should have foreseen it, most of all…" There was a long pause.

At length, Kyrie spoke. "You can't take everything on yourself, Duncan," she said. "No one expects you to. Your powers aren't infallible, and you've spoken of the mist that's been clouding the timelines recently."

"Something is going to happen," he said, looking up again. "The mists always come when there are too many important decisions being made to properly view the streams. They came for my mother, too. The future is never certain, even to us prophets…" Duncan rose from the bed and wandered over to his window, gazing out of it in a dreamy state. He pulled his robe tighter, as if a chill had just washed over him. He forced a laugh.

"I used to ask Lucent why my powers weren't infallible," he said. "He would tell me that nothing but Iluvitar was infallible. In a fleeting moment of optimisim, I would say that I should be infallible as well. I used to tell him that I should be able to see everything…and that maybe he wasn't teaching me everything I needed to know."

"He was, though, was he?" Kyrie said, not turning her head. "Wasn't he teaching you everything that he could?"

"Between him and the tactical indoctrination machine, I think I did learn everything that I could. Still, there was that desire to find the reason that certain things didn't go according to plan. The reason I couldn't always be right, you know?"

"You were young," she said. "You can't think about things like that now. Lucent made you what you are." Duncan turned around and chuckled.

"Ah, but do you know why?" Duncan asked.

"No," she answered.

"Neither did I," he said stoically. "And I never knew because as powerful as my prescience became, the mind of an Eternal works so differently from the mind of a human or a planeswalker, or even an elf, that I could have never figured it out…" There was silence for a few moments before Kyrie's curiosity got the better of her.

"You gonna tell me, or are you just gonna be a tease?" Ducan remained stoic for a moment, then let loose a small grin.

"I can't reveal all my secrets in such a small amount of time," he said, finally walking away from the window, passing through the room and into the changing chambers.

"And why's that?" she said, following his motions and glancing upwards. Unseen to her, Duncan smirked, closing the door to the chamber.

"Because you should consider yourself lucky as it is. I've told you more about myself in the last two days than I've revealed to just about anyone else in the entire Multiverse. You can't get greedy for information, now. Just wait for the right moment. Everything will come in time. Plus…the more I think about it, it'll be your turn to have some share-time, next."

"What will you do now?" she asked, changing the subject away from herself.

"Look for Rydial," he said. "And uphold the code. I suggest you look into the final preparations on the ship. We'll hopefully be leaving here in less than twenty four hours."

"Will do," she said, rising and grabbing a jacket off of the hanger by the door to the room. "And I'll meet you back here in two hours." She pulled the door open and left the quarters, dragging the door shut behind her with a slam. Then, with Duncan alone, the room was silent.

.

Twenty Minutes Later…

The hallway was dimly lit. It was made of the stone, arched passageways that ran through the underbelly of the Citadel. No one came down there much, and Duncan was only down there now because he was looking for someone.

The air was damp and the floor cold. If the servo druids didn't keep the pest population in control, there would probably be rodents running amok across the walls. Duncan could feel the presence he was looking for; it was unmistakable. It was the emanations of Chaos…they followed a planeswalker wherever they went. This would be the location of the trial.

This Trial, officially called the Trial of the Elders, was a series of one on one battles fought by the ruling members of the planeswalker Council. It had been introduced long ago in the times of the LEA due to some questioning as to the order of command. While no one disputed Lathain's rule, it was highly likely that the Trials were the brainchild of Teclis, who tended to be very competitive with his brother Tyrion. He had probably been looking for a way to fight him regulated combat, and so he sought to develop this system.

Traditionally, the each planeswalker in the ruling council must duel with the planeswalker ranked above him and the planeswalker ranked below him. In this, victories and defeats would shift around the pecking order within the Council. Of course, the highest ranked from the last series of trials would not have to face anyone above him, as there would be no such warrior.

It became written into the code around three hundred years after the foundation of the LEA, and Lathain had been against it from the beginning. It had happened, however, that there was some growing dissent among the lower levels of the Organization as to why it appeared that Lathain ran things simply from what seemed to be a heavenly mandate. To maintain control, keep order, and keep faith, Lathain accepted the institution of the Trials system.

To this day, Duncan, Rydial, and the rest of the remaining Elthariji came and met for the Trials once ever year when the Brotherhood convened. Positions rarely changed, though the Trails were looked on as one of the few chances for the Elthariji to practice Bakura combat against an opponent capable of fighting in the same style. It was rare for a planeswalker to fight another planeswalker outside of this Trial system. The Brotherhood assured that all Planewalkers were normally peaceful towards each other. However, to a certain extent, these trials were enjoyed and cherished by the remains of the warrior race. Duncan and Rydial, however, took a different outlook on them.

A shadow filled the end of the corridor that Duncan had just come from. It was the silhouette of a tall man, garbed in robes. Energy filled the room in a swirl and a dank ethereal wind blew through the hallway, causing both men to involuntarily shiver.

"You came…" Duncan said, not turning around. "I was afraid you wouldn't show."

"The code must be upheld…" Rydial mumbled. "The highest of the Order must meet in combat. It is…unavoidable."

"My father never enjoyed this…" Duncan said, lowering his head. "He was always afraid he'd slip up…lose one of them."

"It was Teclis's idea to introduce the trials. Sibling rivalry led him to want to compare power with Tyrion after all."

"Silly what things we hold up long after the creators have died…" Duncan muttered, and then both figures paused, motionless.

A moment's silence went by, and then there was a flutter of motion on the parts of both planeswalkers. Duncan spun around, kicking up the tail of his trench-coat just as he slipped it off his shoulders and cast it aside. Along with the motion, the Cauxion on his arm sparked and a black blade of energy, two and a half feet in length, shot out of the projector on the top of his hand. Rydial had also cast his robes aside, revealing a black fighting uniform with golden embroideries across the chest and shoulders. His own Cauxion pulsed at the ready.

"Kalianti versaille neli?" Duncan asked. '_Are you ready for the trial?_'

"Ygralini istarith larius ge," Rydial said. '_On my honor I uphold the code_.'

In a blur, the two figures rushed at each other and a dark wind blew through the room with a great intensity. When their swords met, they became locked in combat, but they moved with such flawless efficiency and grace that their motions became almost like a choreographed dance. They were both so fast…so accurate…and they didn't keep their feet planted on the floor for very long.

After a few seconds of extremely quick clashing of blackened blades, the combatants were in the air, rebounding off of the walls of the corridor, flying back and forth, meeting weapons in a spinning fury of lashes. Each attack was blocked perfectly, at just the right angle to prevent a 'whip-over' of energy. Duncan quickly took to running straight up the walls, and, fighting upside down from the ceiling, he fended off Rydial's attacks from below.   
  
The dance continued as Duncan flipped down, neatly parrying three attacks as he did so, then making a wide head cut and forcing Rydial to rotate backwards to dodge it. Rydial then rebounded off of the nearest stone wall and launched himself at Duncan like a rocket, weapon extended. Countering, Duncan jumped upward, body parallel to the ground, and whirled around 1080 degrees, his blade catching Rydial's attack, deflecting it, and forcing him to recover on the other side.   
  
Rydial recovered by rolling back up into a fighting stance. He extended his blade, drew a small figure in the air, then ran at Duncan again, swiping at his neck. Duncan caught him in a six parry, and riposted to the cheek: an attack which Rydial barely dodged by swaying back. Quickly, Duncan pounced on his opponent's unbalanced position, lunging with a thrust to the mid section. Rydial parried this, stumbling back and beginning to regain his balance. Duncan followed with four more thrusts, each of them met by a blade.

Needing to turn the tables quickly, Rydial invoked a defensive spinning technique called the Kasumi, catching Duncan's thrusts and knocking them aside as he whiled around like a tornado. After knocking away five or six hits, his used his spinning momentum to launch an arching downward swipe at Duncan's forehead. Duncan was able to block, but was forced to stagger back. Rydial used his momentum to continue moving forward in a series of angled twists though the air, each one concluding with another cut at Duncan. The larger planeswalker soon felt himself pushed against the wall without any more room to retreat.

As Rydial drew his blade back, Duncan let loose a grin and disappeared from view, allowing Rydial to swing, miss, and carve a deep wound in the wall. Rydial spun around to find Duncan standing a few feet away, his sword in a readied position.

"Playing that way?" Rydial asked, also smiling.

"Can you handle it?" Duncan asked, planeshifting again and knocking away the blade that Rydial had swung in prediction of Duncan's new location. Then, as the planeshifting began, the fight became a show of illusions not able to be followed by any but others capable of such movement.

To begin to describe a fight between two beings that are planeshifting in the style of Bakura combat is not an easy task. To the observer, what they might see was the occasional flash of figures shifting back into reality, a momentary clash of blades marked by a white flash, then the figures disappearing again, only to reappear in a completely different place using a completely different angle of attack. If the observer's eye is not fast enough, they might only see the white flash of blades. Or, one figure may settle into reality and fend off attacks that seem to not be actually there. In this case, the other combatant is flashing into reality only momentarily, and is gone again before the observer can see. The only evidence of attack is the flash of white light, but it is slightly comical to see the stationary fighter waving his weapon at something that isn't clearly there.

Depending on what plane the fighters were shifting into, sometimes they were meet each other and clash in _that_ plane, shifting back into the physical plane as an alternate form of dodging. If they picked different planes to shift into, however, they were not visible to each other whilst shifting.  
  
This fight, if the combatants are skillful enough, could continue indefinitely. In reality, Duncan and Rydial were more than capable of delivering a combat technique that would normally win a fight instantly. This could range from anything between completely disconnecting the opponent's Lifeforce from their physical body, to actually altering the continuum in order to simply crush the opponent's body through a 'pinching' of dimensions. Neither fighter was aiming to kill the other, though. It was a game of tricks and ploys. It was a game of trying to draw out an opening in the other's defense, allowing for poising of the weapon in a killing position without delivering the blow. It was a sparring contest for all practical purposes. This was just one that was conducted at a speed which normal humans cannot follow.

The tricks and ploys became even deeper when Rydial tired of simple planeshifting and added another main element of Bakura: time alteration.

Wanting to throw Duncan's final shift off balance, Rydial bent the space he was in to allow for his own body to accelerate down the time stream faster than Duncan's incoming form. From Duncan's prospective, this appeared as a blurred image of Rydial's body, surrounded by a pale luminescence of rainbow light. Thrown off by the sudden time bend, Duncan nearly over accelerated himself to compensate, which would have resulted in him accidentally hurling himself through the wall that was behind Rydial. Instead, he extended his own powers to the forth dimension and began to play the game as well.

Now, if planeshifting combat is hard to describe, time-adjusted planeshifting combat is nearly impossible. In addition to the fading in and out of the combat, adding time shifting creates a bizarre flow of motion that doesn't always seem to match up with the surrounds of the fight. Different areas of the room will move more slowly than others and time will alter pace as often as twenty times within the span of a second. To see the movements of two fighters go from slow, to fast, then back again (and not always in sync) is the prime cause of headaches amongst observers of Bakura combat. Also, as these two particular fighters were exceptionally skilled in this craft, they could attempt to speed up themselves at the same time as trying to slow down their opponents. Like a battle with a lavoid, it was a fight to see who could out-force the other with the Winds of Magic that control time flow.

It also introduced a concept of bluffing. For example, if Duncan were to exude an extreme force in slowing Rydial down, Rydial would begin to compensate with a similar effort to counteract Duncan's effect. Then, as Rydial would be pouring great energies into speeding himself up, Duncan might simply cease the slow-down effect that he was generating. This would cause Rydial to fly forward in time at a greater pace than he had expected, which would probably leave him in an unbalanced and unprotected position. One had to be leery with putting too much force in altering the stream so as not to get caught up in a bluff, yet one had to be mindful of putting enough force so that the opponent didn't completely control the flow of battle. All of this had to be considered whilst both fighters were shifting in and out of real space, trying to get around the other's defenses, and still operating at a rate which seemed a blur to a normal human.

There were, after all, reasons why only a planeswalker's mind was capable of handling all of this.

Duncan and Rydial continued to twist time and space in a swirling melee that was now completely unrecognizable as any known form of combat. A human spectator would hardly be able to see through the blur of bent time, let alone follow the warping, shifting movements of the combatants that was constantly speeding up and slowing down. A blade that started to come from the left could end up coming from above at ten times the original pace, only to be slowed to one fifth of it's speed and blocked from and angle not ever anticipated. It was truly mind-boggling.

It became a game of one waiting for the other to slip up. Blades still clashed repeatedly, but each strike was more of an attempt to throw off the other's balance and disrupt their sway over the time stream. Their stamina, if they had been human, would be beginning to wane at this point. To exert so much control over time while battling in multiple planes is a physically exhausting task. The ability to coordinate all of these actions was exhausting as well. These planeswalkers, however, drew energy from a high source: that of Chaos. They were not met with feelings of fatigue or drain. The limit of their battle was only contained by the limit of their patience.

It just so happened that at this point, Duncan's patience ran too thin.

He took up position in line with Rydial and channeled such a massive quantity of energy that he would usurp control of the time stream for a long enough moment to perform his final attack. The catch was that his move wouldn't even take a moment to complete. This is where it derived its name: No Moment.

He executed it flawlessly. He grabbed a hold of the time flow and slowed everything around him to a halt. Instinctively, he sunk into astral plane, raced towards Rydial, shifting back into the physical plane just as he made his strike. Because this technique utilized separate manipulation of time flow for each of the planes involved, Duncan appeared to Rydial as if he had literally started in one place and instantly ended up behind him, having already delivered a precision, rising slash, tearing just close enough to Rydial to slit open his combat suit without harming his skin. Because of the massive amount of energy that Duncan used in such a short time, Rydial was completely overpowered on the temporal level, and was left open to Duncan's quick attack. Duncan, now behind Rydial, allowed time to flow back to normal as he stood up turned around to gaze at his defeated opponent.

Also standing up and allowing his torn clothes to fall off of him, Rydial spun to face Duncan. The two men gazed at each other for a moment.

"You know, I could have simply swayed enough to allow you not to kill me," Rydial said with a minor grin. "That would mean you haven't won yet."

"Ah, but you know as well as I that you didn't try to dodge that. If you had…I might have accidentally hit you instead of your clothes," Duncan said, also grinning. Duncan raised his blade and held it in front of his face, waiting a moment and allowing Rydial to do the same. Both men brought their blades down in a swiping salute, then the black energies from the Cauxions disappeared and more of the swirling energies of Chaos in the room dissipated.

Honestly relieved that neither had inadvertently killed the other, they walked up to each other and embraced hands.

"Well fought," Rydial said to Duncan, brushing a single drop of sweat off his forehead. "That was a neat trick at the end."

"The timing is difficult to pull off. For it to literally take No Moment, I needed to slow down the physical plane enormously, while greatly speeding up the plane that I moved in…all the while hoping you didn't think to Planeshift at that time."

"Would that have been the best way to dodge it?" Rydial asked. "I don't think I could have. The only thing I remember is all the energy you channeled in so you could overpower me. It worked. I was really caught off guard by my sudden lack of any control over the time flow."

"That's the idea. Its kind of a one shot go," Duncan said. "If you miss, you've over exerted yourself and are vulnerable…" Duncan walked over and picked up his trench coat from the floor, brushing off the dust that had been kicked on it. He slid it over his shoulders and absentmindedly fingered the hilt to the Dreamblade.

"Kinda like this killing Cain thing," Rydial said. "If you miss…you're in trouble." Duncan chuckled.

"Yes, Rydial, that _was_ the parallel I was trying to make, oh perceptive one," he said sarcastically. The two of them walked down the hallway and he bent over and picked up Rydial's robes, handing them to him.

"Nervous?" Rydial asked.

"A bit. I don't like trusting people other than Kyrie and other planeswalkers. I suppose this information is coming from someone Orphius recommends, but it still means I'm going outside of the loop to get it."

"Whatever's necessary," Rydial said, glancing over at him. "And we'll all benefit from this. Who doesn't? Cain is a dictator anyway. The Dominion should revel in his death."

"Until someone is selected as his successor."

"You think Multani might rise to the task?"

"Hah," Duncan muttered. "My father should have offed Multani centuries ago. I still don't know why he was sparred."

"Your dad probably respected him in a sense. It's the same reason he didn't kill Cain. Lathain simply was making a point. He wasn't out to destroy the Dominion. He just needed them out of his way."

"I know this," Duncan said as the two men wandered out of the hallway and began climbing a spiraling stone staircase that led to the main levels of the Citadel. "But that still doesn't make me wonder why he didn't see fit to simply get rid of them. I understand that he was not interested in ruling a galactic empire, but Cain was an insult to his strength."

"He knew that if the Dominion was in enough confusion so that Cain would stop shooting down his ships, he could go back to his Crusade, Duncan," Rydial said. "And you know that. You've read the history books just as many times as I have."

"This is true…" he said. He shook his head. "What am I doing?" he asked Rydial. "Why am I doing this? Should I wait till he actually tries to intercept me? Should I let him come to me? Why am I going after him?"

"You're the prophet, Duncan," Rydial answered. "Why are you going after him? You fear of being hit first? No, I don't think that's it. You're confident enough in your own abilities. You fear for the others….for those like Hyrial." Duncan didn't answer for a moment. He gazed around the walls of the stone stairwell as they continued to walk until they came out in an entry room decorated in red tapestries and rugs, covering the cold stone floors and walls.

"Yes," he finally said in a low voice. "I fear for the others."

"For the man who often says to kill emotions is the only way to survive in this game, it must sound funny for me to tell you that you need to worry about yourself as well as them. They're not as helpless as you'd sometimes like to think. Not as helpless…"

"They are, though, Rydial," Duncan said. "And you know it, too. And our blood _is_ thin. We cannot have any more unneeded deaths of our own species. We must preserve and persevere." Rydial put his hand on Duncan's shoulder and halted his pace, causing Duncan to stop and turn.

"Duncan….as a friend and as a brother….watch out for yourself. You can't treat your life like a fight, waiting for that one time to overexert and risk yourself. There are times when life is not like the battlefield…as much as you chose to live on one. Please…be careful. Do what you have to do. Kill the bastard before he comes after us, but be careful."

Duncan looked at Rydial for a moment, then the two men embraced in a hug that was about as emotional as Duncan thought he could get.

"I'll watch out," Duncan said as they released each other. "And I'll kill the bastard good and quick."

"I'll mind things while you're gone, Duncan. If all goes well, I'll see you in two weeks."

"That's a promise," Duncan said, beginning to walk away. "And have a good time while I'm gone!" he called back. Briskly, and without further words, he walked out of the room.

"Will do…" Rydial, said, looking at the ground. "Don't get yourself killed, you crazy son of a bitch. Just stay alive…"


	9. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Informant 

_The magical residue that forms on the inside of a lavoid's central chamber is called Lemange. It is a combination of lavoid Energy and Lifestream and appears in the form of purple crystals. While it was originally hypothesized that the crystal itself could be sold for money, it was later discovered that when ground down into a powder and ingested, Lemange became a powerful psychedelic and life extending drug. The trips it induced actually gave the user a temporary sense of prescience, and, ingested in mild daily doses, it increased life expectancies as much as 172%. _

_Unfortunately, the drug is extremely addictive when more than .05% of the user's body mass is consumed daily for an extended period of time. Withdraw symptoms include nausea, intense head aches, high fevers, vomiting, muscle cramps, whooping cough, internal hemorrhaging, and, depending on the length of the addiction, eventual death. Due to its life extending properties it is an extremely expensive drug and not only provided the LEA with its funding but also created the personal fortunes of Duncan McKlane and Orphius Arinthir._

_Orphius was perhaps the most well known Lemange trader in the Union and the Empire. His reputation for his trading and his information network was wide ranging. (see individual entry for more detail)_

_-Raziel Database_

Duncan had made haste to leave the Citadel shortly after the Trial had been completed. He had never been a big fan of the place, and, after all, he had business to attend to.

He met up with Kyrie, who had made the final preparations on the ship, and they were off within the hour. It was a fourteen-hour travel through subspace to get to their destination, and Duncan would spend the time studying, recuperating from the trial. First, he briefly looked down the time steam and saw no disruptions in their journey. With the coast clear, he sunk into reading up on some of the newest resources from Aristrand. It wasn't long, however, before he fell asleep in his reading chair.

.

The Vendetta came out of sub-space above Terrenus VII, a planet in the Terrenus system in the Mystican Empire. Duncan had not been pleased about having to travel so far to find this man that Orphius knew. It was only because Orphius did a lot of business with the Empire that he had such a deep connection there. Duncan also wondered why this man, his name apparently being Taggart, could not have met him somewhere more convenient. He was, as Orphius had mentioned, difficult to deal with, it would seem.

Terrenus was a mess. The major city, Trell was in such disorganization that it took him nearly an hour to get clearance to land. There had been some confusion as to whether or not he was an accused smuggler or some other absurdity. Regardless, the longer he spent around this planet, the more upset he became with it. Unlike the cities in the Dominion, which were monuments to order, or cities of the Eldar, which were monuments to architecture, this city seemed to be nothing more than a monument to smog and corruption.

He was to meet this Taggart person in a bar that was a reasonable distance from the Space Port. What Duncan had not expected was that people would attempt to pick his pockets three times on the walk through the slums. His pale skin and slightly pointed ears gave him somewhat of a mystic-like look, and his hair wasn't weird to those who spent time around mystics. But, people didn't seem to take kindly to a man who clearly carried a sword beneath his trench coat.

Of course, none of the attempts really caught him be surprise. In fact, he dodged the first two attempts simply by swaying away at the proper moment. By the third time, however, he had decided to teach the would-be thief a lesson, setting his clothes on fire and slicing open his britches, allowing him to run through the streets in a burning pair of underwear. People paused and stared as he re-sheathed his sword, apparently oblivious to the fact that magic was not supposed to be practiced so openly. Duncan didn't care. He didn't care about much of anything on this planet. The smell was beginning to irritate him and the Ethereal Winds there were itchy…

The slums seemed to stretch on forever, and he briefly considered the possibility that the entire city was nothing _but_ the slums. It was a dimly lit town, making the shadiness of the people within it more accentuated. The restaurants were shady, the clubs were shady, and this bar that he was going to was shady. It was called 'A Hole in the Wall,' located somewhere between 785th and 786th street. When he reached it (after being offered a wide variety of 'services' by a variety of folk), he found it couldn't be described as anything _more_ than a hole in the wall. There was a bar on the far side, an old stage for live music that looked like it hadn't been used in years, and some busted up wooden chairs and tables scattered throughout the floor.

He wandered into the bar, gazing around through the smoke, and he examined the crowd, noting from slight minutia in the folds of their clothes that most of them carried weapons underneath their dirty jackets. Up at the bar, all the metal stools were filled save for one, which he casually walked up to and claimed it for his own. Glancing to his left and right he noted that the patrons of the bar seemed to be generic thugs looking for a way to drown the sorrows of the day. The bartender glanced at him.

"What'll it be?" he asked. Duncan raised an eyebrow.

"What's the highest proof alcohol that you've got?" he questioned.

"Rebulla 180," he said. "What do you want it mixed with?"

"Just ice," Duncan said blankly. The bartender looked taken aback, not realizing the man in front of him was of a species whose livers' detoxified poisons at an incredible metabolic rate. 90% alcohol wasn't so bad for Duncan. He didn't have the ability to get drunk. It did warm his throat on the way down, though. The bartender poured the drink and placed it in front of him.

Duncan quickly realized, through listening to conversations around him, that the people here were mostly mine workers. The bar was filled of talk about a potential strike or something of that order. He realized that the dust that covered their jackets was of sediment from the mines located a few miles outside of the city boarders. Apparently, workers were shuttled there by train each morning, worked a 14 hour day, then were shuttled back, all for minimal pay. A few words about adamantine, one of the metals he incorporated in his anti-magic weaponry, were also exchanged. Someone had apparently snuck some out of the mines recently, and this was a crime punishable by death.

Behind him, he could hear some shuffling as someone new entered the bar. A few greetings were exchanged and footsteps came towards where he was seated. Duncan soon felt a light tapping on his shoulder.

"You're in my seat," a voice said, gruff and raspy. Duncan had apparently stumbled into the seat of one of the regulars. He didn't move, despite noting that the man was prodding him with a loaded gun.

"I think you're mistaken," he said without turning around. "As I have no intention of getting up," he said casually, taking a swig of his drink. Duncan heard a clicking noise, the kind of sound a gun makes when the hammer is drawn back. Some attention of the surrounding patrons was drawn, and those around him began telling Duncan to move, but he kept his eyes on his glass.

"I only ask once," the voice said. Duncan furrowed his brow. Before the man behind him knew what had happened, Duncan had slid his hands underneath his arms, drawn a knife into each, and was already spinning around. The left hand knife sawed through the barrel of the gun that had been poised against his neck a fraction of a second earlier. The other knife was quickly and gracefully pressed ever so slightly against the neck of the man. There was muttering amongst the crowd and those around Duncan rose from their seats, not sure what do next. Some drew their own weapons. Others stared in shock.

"Rei Taggart, I presume?" Duncan asked sarcastically, holding the man at knifepoint.

"You're….Duncan McKlane?" the man said, short of breath due to shock.

"What gave it away?" Duncan asked rhetorically, withdrawing the knives and sheathing them in a blur.

"Well, holy shit. Orphius said you were fast but…woah…" Taggart said, taking a step back. He was just under six feet high and of stocky build. His face told the story of someone who had been in a lot of fights…thin scars etched their way across his cheeks. He wore a leather jacket over a dirty red shit. Denim pants covered his legs.

Duncan rose to meet him. "Orphius had mentioned you were difficult to deal with, but I hadn't expected to be held up." He gave the man a cold stare.

"He told me that's how I'd know who you were. You'd be the man who could get the jump on me and pull it all off without batting an eye," Orphius said in his own defense. "I wasn't actually going to shoot you." Duncan nodded slowly.

"Let us take care of business somewhere else," he said, glancing around and seeing that they had drawn the attention of most of the bar. "People might be listening here that shouldn't." Taggart nodded curtly and the two men made their way out of the bar.

The sun had pretty much set on the dirty town by the time the men came out of the bar. The remains of the twilight highlighted the dust that hung in the air. The faint smell of sulfur was apparent, residual from explosives used in the mines. Humans and Mystics wandered the streets, some of the hair coloring on the humans being just as bizarre as those of the Mystics.

"So what exactly is it that you do?" Taggart asked him as they wandered out of the bar.

"I'm lavoid Hunter," Duncan said. "A Slayer, you might say. I hunt down and kill lavoids by trade."

"Rarely any of you around these days, huh?" he asked. "Haven't heard stories along lines of that since the ancient days…the Exterminatorum Adeptus, and other bull shit fairy tales of the like"

"It's hardly bull shit…" Duncan said, unfazed. "The Adeptus might be responsible for you even being alive, you know. A lavoid might have wiped out your family tree long before you came along, depending on where you originate." He gazed over at the man. "Where exactly are you from?"  
  
"Here, actually. It's sad that I call the slums of this town home," Taggart said. "But it's lucky that my skills with getting information earn me better work than that of the miners."

"I see…" Duncan said, then followed with silence. Finally, he became bored.

"Then let's cut to business," Duncan said, not looking at the man as they walked down the poorly lit street. "I need to know about Cain…and I'm assuming from Orphius's faith in you that you've found my information at this point." Taggart, immediately seeing that this man was nothing but business, took the bait.

"Now, I don't want to know what you need it for," he said. "That's none of my concern. I do have your info, though." He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and procured a small disc. Waving it in the air, he grinned. "But I decided it's going to cost you a little more than whatever you arranged with Orphius. Duncan stopped walking.

"Give me the disc," he said in a very controlled tone, extending his gloved hand.

"Three-hundred thousand credits," Taggart said, placing the disk back in his jacket. Duncan stifled a small, sarcastic chuckle.

"Mr. Taggart, you very clearly have no idea who you're dealing with. Now…give me the disk…" he still spoke in a low tone, not showing any sign of violence. Taggart folded his arms across his chest.

"Buddy, I don't care who you are. Everything has a price, and that includes this information. You think it was easy to get? The kinda stuff like this is only viewed by those with the highest security level clearance." Duncan shook his head.

"Bako jara kua," he said in the ancient tongue, invoking an obscenity. Then, with great control and precision, he repeated. "Rei Taggart, you will give me the disk in your left jacket pocket." He extended his mind into Taggart's, locked consciousness's together with him. Taggart gazed back with a dumbfounded look. His eyes suddenly went blank and like a puppet on strings, he reached into his pocket, drew out the disk, and handed it to Duncan. As Duncan put it in his jacket with his right hand, he snapped his fingers in his left hand and Taggart returned to a sentient state.

"Thank you, Mr. Taggart," Duncan said, beginning to turn around and walk away. "Your services have been appreciated," he said with his back turned.

"I didn't just…" Taggart mumbled. Fumbling into his own pocket, he found it vacant of the disk he had just handed over. Then, realizing he was so easily manipulated, he bolted after Duncan. "Hey, come back here you wormy piece of-" he had nearly reached him and finished his sentence, but before Taggart could even see Duncan move, the blue haired man had unhooked the sheathed Dreamblade from his belt and was holding two inches of exposed blade at Taggart's neck.

"_Don't_…finish that sentence," Duncan said. He slid the sword completely into the sheath again, reattaching it to his belt. "So now that's twice I've spared your life. But, if you'll excuse me, I have to get off this poor excuse for a civilized planet." He turned around again and started walking back towards the Spaceport, confident that that man wouldn't be trying anything again. He was now one step closer to getting rid of Cain.

.

Duncan returned to the Vendetta and moved it away from Trell as soon as possible. He brought the ship into a middling orbit above the planet. He and Kyrie sat down to analyze the information which Duncan received.

The "War Room" on the Vendetta was located on the upper level in the midsection of the ship. It was the place were Duncan typically plotted out actions before he took them. The room was filled with charts, screens, readouts, computers, and other things that made beeping sounds. In the middle of the room was a stainless steel table that sat up to eight people around its edge. Duncan and Kyrie sat in silvery swivel chairs that were anchored to the floor, just like most other things aboard the ship.

On the table was a lap top computer which Kyrie was operating. Her fingers were flailing away at the keys and her eyes showed signs of minor distress.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"He's a bastard all right," Kyrie mumbled, continuing to type away. After a moment, she paused and looked at him.

"He put locks on most of the files," she continued. "Sort of a safeguard against you deciding not to pay him, I guess."

"I let him live," Duncan said. "For a rat like that, he should accept that as pay."

"Regardless, there's a whole mess of code I need to fiddle with, now."

"Can you get by it?"

"Of course."

"How long?"

"Maybe twenty minutes or so?"

"Kyrie, that's slow for you," he said with a slight smirk.

"Oh, give me a break. These are high-level Dominion codes. I mean, for Iluvitar's sake, the codes he got through to get these couldn't have been much more complicated."

"Peculiar…" Duncan mumbled. "I wouldn't have expected him to be versed enough in stuff like this to try and double cross me…"

"He is a veteran informant for some high level political figures," Kyrie said. "It's not terribly surprising that he knows a bit about computers. Also, remember, he wouldn't have been able to get the info in the first place if he didn't know a thing or two about hacking."

"I suppose," Duncan agreed. He furrowed his brow. "Just please move with haste. I would like to start planning the mission as soon as possible." Then, he rose from his seat and walked out of the room, leaving Kyrie to work with the files. Kyrie shook her head at the computer, not particularly in the mood to deal with it. Something about this stunk to high holy hell.

_These codes are far too close to standard Dominion protocol. Why would an informant of an underground drug trade use codes that were so close to the nature of the Dominion military?_ She wondered. She hacked away at the codes diligently, though. It wouldn't prove too much trouble. Even high-level Dominion access codes weren't hard for her. Actually, the fact that these were Dominion codes might have made it easier for her; she'd had tons of practice on them in the past.

"Note to self," she said out loud. "Get Duncan to yell at Orphius for making him deal with such a shit head." She shook her head and got back to work.

Numbers made sense to her. Number and code were always the kind of things she was fascinated with and patterns were fun to deal with. It's why her knack was always in design. That was always were she was drawn to as a child and in school.

Elves have a higher education system somewhat like the one on Pre-Fall Terra. They had a University system that was tuition based, but aide was hard to get from the government. As a result, most of the college-going elves were already part of the aristocracy, or they at least came from some form of money. Kyrie's family, being from Ithilian, probably had made their money in trade. Being able to send her to school was the least of their worries, at any rate.

She studied physics and engineering at a top-flight university, graduating early. Her mind, as one teacher had put it, was like a natural computer. She would have been able to get any job that she wanted for any of the big corporations…that is, if the lavoid hadn't come. The irony was that she continued to engineer things, only now she was engineering things used to fight what almost drove her off of that path in the first place.

Kyrie let out a brief sigh and stopped typing for a moment.

_Something's up_, she thought. _But he'd see it, right? I'm sure it's just my own paranoia, of course. Focus, Kyrie. He needs your help, now…_

She blinked once, then dutifully returned to work.

.

Duncan wandered down the hall until he came to the last door on the right; his quarters. Waving his hand across a sensor, he watched the door hiss open. He entered and sat down on the bed, gazing around.

"Note to self," Duncan said, "Yell at Orphius for making me deal with such shit heads." He sighed. His room was rather Spartan for a man as wealthy as himself. The walls were mostly undecorated, still baring the steel coloring of the rest of the ship. Sporadically, there were posters that displayed the technical specifications of the Vendetta or other starships. Muffled yellow lights on the ceiling illuminated them. There was a rug thrown across the floor, but it was a simple, cool blue. The only pieces of furniture were a bed, and end table, and a small couch along the right wall. The left wall also happened to slide open to reveal the storage compartment for all of Duncan's clothes.

Duncan didn't really ever need to sleep. A long time ago, he had perfected a technique which allowed him to shut down part of his brain, keeping other parts active. By cycling the parts of his brain through this stage of dormancy, he could technically rest while staying awake. He did find sleep to be helpful, though, for his mental sanity. There were certain times when sleep certainly did seem like the only option that he felt like taking.

Filling time was something Duncan dreaded. Often enough, he would mentally cycle through his memorized spell book, sometimes pausing to make sure that he knew the exact motions and incantations of some of the harder ones. Sometimes he fiddled with the files in the Tactical Indoctrination machine he kept on board, toning certain Data-Sets to be more effective.

He used to paint. That was years ago, though. He still had a collection of many paintings done in acrylic and watercolor, though he hadn't managed to force himself to do much painting recently. Maybe he was getting "World Weary" as some of the older elves tended to get, and that's why he didn't find that urge anymore. His pictures were almost always of battle scenes, anyway, and he saw enough of that when he was at work.

Sometimes he read, but he joked that writers weren't producing anything good anymore. He surrounded himself more with the "Classics" from the Pre-Second Fall Era. They were hard to get a hold of nowadays, but they told stories of galaxy in which the rulers were just and the heroes always won over the enemies within a measurable constraints of time. At most, these battles took only months or years. Never was anything so drawn out as the battle against the lavoids. It was three thousand years and counting now, with no end in sight. No….sometimes Duncan liked reading because the stories were less depressing than reality.

"I'm going to just do this quick and move on with my life," he said to the ceiling as he stared up at it. "He's just the ruler of the largest political body in the galaxy…no big deal, right?"

_He's strong_, a voice in his head resounded. He didn't know were it was coming from, but he knew who it was.

"I know, Lucent," he said, answering his friend's telepathic message.

_Certainly no match for my student, but he hasn't survived this long without having some experience to show for it_

"He did manage to create an empire that spans most of the galaxy. Of course he's no weakling."

_And no fool, either_ Lucent reminded him.

"You don't trust my judgment on the battlefield?"

_Kid, I taught you how to makes judgments on the battlefield. I'm just reminding you that he's seen a lot of stuff. Make sure you're…original…in your plan of attack_

"I'll probably use a series of stealth spells," he said. "If I have to take down a few bystanders in getting to him with a spell then so be it, but I…suppose that I'd prefer doing the deal in hand to hand. A matter of honor, I suppose."

_Bull shit_ Lucent shot. _Kid, I know you're into that honor crap, but this is one of those situations that you know doesn't call for it. You think he's the one who's responsible for killing Hyrial and you want to see him bleed for it. Don't kid yourself…or me. You know the two of us know you too well for that_

"Haha," Duncan forced a laugh. "You're probably right. I guess I don't even know what I'm thinking."

_Then don't think about it_ he said. _Stop using that planeswalker intellect to overanalyze what might happen and start using it to concentrate on making it happen. You know that you'll drive yourself mad if you think about it too much. Besides, the battlefield is too unpredictable to plan ahead for too much. You know that_

"You always know just what to say."

_It comes with the territory of being the ultimate, powerful super-being that I am. What can I say?_

"You done?"

_You thinking straight?_

"Yes…I think I am, now."

_Then I'm done. Just remember: self doubt is the mind killer. Screw fear. That can be surpassed. Self doubt…that'll eat you up. Get over it_

"So…you done?"

_Yup_

"Thank you, Lucent."

_You got it _

As quickly as he had entered Duncan's head, Lucent's being made its exit. There was no indication in the ship that he had even been there, but Duncan felt him leave. It was nice to hear his voice, though. He always had a knack for instilling a sense of reason in Duncan, even when he himself wasn't terribly sure of what was happening. Duncan McKlane faced with uncertainty…only behind closed doors (and to Lucent) could he ever admit it.

"Duncan!" Kyrie called from the other room. "I've got it. Come see." Duncan snapped his eyes open and rose from the bed. Rolling his neck, he exited his room and wandered down the hall again, going back into the War Room. Kyrie was sitting in her chair with a victorious grin on her face. She spun the lap top around to Duncan could see, motioning to the screen that was displaying the blueprints to something.

"The Junum Imperial Amphitheater?" Duncan questioned. He swung into the nearest seat, looking closely at the screen.

"It's the location of an address Cain will be making in two days," Kyrie said.

"What's he speaking about?"

"Apparently, it has something to do with new power sources. I mean, it's probably just something to placate the people on Junum, what with their complaining about the Nuclear Generators there. More than anything, now, we know-"

"Where he's going to be…" Duncan finished her thought.

"So we act?" Duncan gazed into space for a moment.

"It seems too easy," he said after breath. "That Amphitheater is an easy target. No way in hell he doesn't know that. I've been there. The way it's built…there are too many ways in."

"So they'll have beefed up security. It _is_ Emperor Cain. We can get around it, though, right?" she asked. Duncan nodded.

"Look up the history on terrorist attacks on that building. I want to know where people have attacked through before, as those will be the places that they'll guard most heavily."

"Right," she said, minimizing the display window and beginning to run a search on the Amphitheater. The computer buzzed for a few moments, then displayed a list of search results.

"Anything within the last ten years?" Duncan asked.

"Yeah…one. But it was only an attempt. It was cut off."

"When was the last successful attempt?"

"Well, the entire complex was destroyed about fifty years ago in a bombing."

"Then rebuilt it the same way? I don't believe I've been there within the last fifty years."

"No. This is the new model. Slightly different…more secure, I suppose."

"So look up all attempts since the new construction." She nodded, typing a few more words and searching again. The computer displayed the histories from three instances.

"These," Kyrie said, motioning to the screen. Duncan narrowed his eyes.

"Can you bring up the full information?"

"Right…" she said, opening the files. Three new windows came up displaying text documents recapping the incidents. Kyrie scanned over each of them, swapping back and forth between documents, sometimes.

"Well?"

"One was an assassination," she said. "A man was shot dead at the speaking podium. The assassin was suspected to have taken up position in this building here…" she said, opening up a picture of the Amphitheatre and its surrounding area. She pointed to one of the taller buildings with a clear view over the low side stands of the theatre. "As you can see, the top of the theatre is completely open to the sky."

"Next," he said.

"One was an attempted bombing, like I said before. That was seven years ago, and the bomber had snuck in through the rather spacious ventilation system. He had rigged most the main support struts to blow, and the explosions had been positioned to allow the theatre to collapse inwards, killing most of the people that would have been watching the presentation. I believe it was a popular play that was being performed."  
  
"A disgruntled art critic, perhaps? What about the last?"

"Hostage situation," she said. "Forty years ago, a unit of revolutionaries calling themselves the 'Crimson' infiltrated the compound. They were well trained…they managed to time guard patrols and camera paths to sneak a group of twenty two armed men into the facility. Dominion Forces were able to put them down, but not before seven hostages were executed. None of the men were taken alive."

"Any common themes?"

"It looks like all the incidents took advantage of both flaws the highly-automated security system, and the structure of the building that allows for easy infiltration."

"So they'll be guarding it pretty heavily, beefing up the automated security," Duncan mused. "Can you bring up the plans of the infrastructure?"

"Yup," she said, bringing up a menu on the right and opening a map of the ventilation systems and the restricted areas.

"They'll prepare for a potential infiltration through here…" he said, pointing to one of the side passages that was easily accessible through a central duct. "Or…this area here…" he pointed to an area behind the stage that rose about ten stories.

"If I come through a side passage, I'll have to dispatch guards. No problem, for the most part, but I don't want to cause a scene. Something like this will make the news, and I can't afford to get the full forces of the Dominion military on my back. I'd rather cause as little disturbance as possible, so…"

"Yeah?" she asked. He rose from his seat.

"I'm gonna drop right from the sky," he said matter-of-factly

"What?"

"Skydive in and kill him with one strike while he's exposed. The open roof makes it a great option, and it's not standard practice, so they won't see it coming."

"Magical descent and a single blow with the sword?"

"Coupled with a series of stealth spells to keep my identity secret. They'll be over-occupied with protecting against an infiltration through standard means. They won't be expecting an attack from a magic-user." He grinned.  
  
"Plot the course to Junum III, starting a long range scan for Dominion activity?" she asked with a similar grin.

"I'll be in the study reviewing Emperors Cain's battle history," he said, agreeing with her plan of action.

"Don't study too long," she said, rising and walking to the door. "I'm going to make you sit down and have diner tonight."

"As you wish," he said, nodding to her. She left the room and the door slid shut. He clasped his hands together and cracked his knuckles. "You're mine, Cain…and my father's mercy shall not be given…"


	10. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Assassination 

_"We favor assassination. For all practical purposes, it is how we work. In any purge, our mission is functionally complete when we eliminate the lavoid in question. It is easiest this way. Why should we have to eliminate all of the followers when it is unneeded? Their lives end shortly after their creator-lavoid can no longer feed them Chaos, anyway. To kill the lavoid is to kill the hive, and to kill the lavoid, assassination is a commonly employed technique._

_"All through history, empires have risen and fallen through the lives and deaths of their leaders. Cut out the leader and you cut out the command. Cut out the leader and you cut out the empire. It is simplistic in its core. Why should we not follow such a practice when we are capable of it?" _

_–Jack McKlane, on LEA Ideology_

.

Duncan stirred, tapping his sword against his shoulder as he stood in the ready room before his jump. The Vendetta had swung into orbit above Junum III twenty minutes ago and Kyrie had just finished syncing up with the time zone where the Amphitheatre was located. It was just a few minutes away now. The ship started lowering itself into the planet's atmosphere and activating its stealth modules to avoid detection. They would never see it coming. It would work perfectly.

Why was Duncan nervous, then? Something within him felt wrong. He had tried looking into the timelines a few moments ago, but found them nothing but a thick, cloudy mess, even just a few moments ahead. Surely something couldn't be right here. Was there some sort of distortion throwing off his sense of the fourth dimension? He hadn't been alerted to anything by the ships computers. He was positive that Lyris would have picked something like that up! Still, something was wrong. There was uneasiness in the air, in the planes, and in time.

"Bridge to Duncan," Kyrie's voice came over the com. "We're moving into position. You're a go in tee minus forty four seconds."

"Thanks, Kyrie," Duncan said. He stopped tapping the Dreamblade against his shoulder and swung his arms in circles a few times, stretching out. He took a deep breath, waving his hand to the right and magically pulling the sheath off of his weapon, placing it on his back. He flipped the loosed blade over his hands a few times and reached into his coat, drawing out his sunglasses. The counter above the door counted down. 5….4….3…

He lowered his gaze and drew the sunglasses over his eyes. 2…1…

"Punch it," he said. The door in front of him slid open and he hurled himself out of it like a bungee jumper on speed. The air briefly rushed past his face before he snapped on a Ray Wing bubble to deflect the flow. Downward he streaked, head into a dive, sword swept back, careening into uncertainty.

Thirty thousand feet below him in the Imperial Amphitheatre, Emperor Cain walked up to a tall marble podium on top of a wide, wooden stage. The audience, some several thousand in attendance, stood up and began applauding. Yral walked up beside him as Cain leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Is everything ready?" he asked. The young councilman nodded.

"Everything is up and running. We don't have any verification on his craft, but that was to be expected. The sequence is designed to go off when the machines read a Chaos signature within a designated distance from you. No matter how hard he tries, he can't cover up that signature. It'll all go fine."

"How close?" Cain asked.

"Not more than a few inches," Yral said. "Or we'd never be able to catch him by surprise."

"Good," Cain said, standing up and looking forward. "See to it that it does. I'd rather not have to fight in open combat with him." Yral nodded, turning and walking away. Cain looked ahead again and finished climbing up to the podium. Extending his arms for dramatic effect, he began to address the crowd.

.

Duncan continued to pick up speed until he reached the terminal velocity for his mass. His Ray Wing bubble was being warped by the force of the air rising up past him, but it didn't distract him. He counted the seconds that he had fallen, having already figured out how long it would take before he would be on top of Cain. Originally, he had hypothesized that he would need to magically slow down, but he later scrapped that idea in favor of simply drilling his victim some ten meters into the ground before stopping. He decided that he liked that idea much better.

The amphitheatre was coming up now and he could almost see it distinctly. Adjusting his course slightly, he brought the sword forward slightly into striking position. He looking momentarily ahead into the timestream, but it was still a misty haze. He shrugged it off. He'd play this one as it went. It was far too late to pull back now, and inwardly, he didn't care. Finally in position to take out one his largest threats, he mentally began to count down. Fifteen…fourteen…thirteen…

Definitions were clear now. He saw Cain's form. He saw the podium and he saw the stage. On the periphery of his vision, he saw the audience, standing and cheering like a bunch of fools. Most importantly, though, he saw his target: the Emperor's heart. He altered his angle a little to make sure he came in and hit right. Twelve…eleven…ten…

His heart raced. Adrenaline flowed. This was different than killing lavoids, yet there was a thrill here that he had been lacking for some time now. He was doing something potentially dangerous again. He focused. There was only one goal, now, and he would meet it. His blood flow quickened, his ultra-effective planeswalker heart working harder. Nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…

Three more seconds. The energy around him flared as he came crashing into the view of the Amphitheatre. He could sense Cain's energy. He could sense the Lifeforce that he was about to destroy. His mouth drew up in a thin grin.

"I have you now, Cain…" he said. Three…two…

But suddenly something changed. There was a flash: something distant in the back of his head. Whatever was eating him prior to the jump sprung out of hiding like a predator hunting its pray. Something had activated and before he knew it, all the energy that he was using to control his descent was lost. Anti-Order Fields! Another machine went off. Time froze. Cain suddenly disappeared. Impossible! A teleporter!? In the split second before he would have hit his target, he lost complete control of his power. What was this?!

Duncan crashed through the floor of the stage like a comet -his target not even there anymore- and tore into the foundation of the building, finally slamming into the concrete base with a thud. It cracked open in places, nearly cracking _him_ open as well. He thanked his planeswalker skeleton for surviving the blow, but there was a new sense here: fear. Something had gone terrible awry, and he sensed an imminent danger about him. The timestreams suddenly came into view again, but he didn't like what they said.

A field of energy hummed around him and he felt himself being lifted upwards against his will. He tried to fire a blast of magic at the field, but no Order came to his grasp. He flared up, trying to express the Black Wings, but was greeted with an intense electric shock that no one save the most magically tolerant could have survived. He continued to be lifted upwards into a room above the one he had fallen into. Survival instinct told him to panic. _No_, he told himself, arguing against instinct. _Panic gets you nowhere!_ But still, it looked as if he was running out of options. Just now he fully recognized the energy field that he was encased in. It was an Anti-Order field coupled with a suspension array being focused via adamantine. Any magical energy, even Chaos, couldn't exist in this place. If Chaos was summoned through the adamantine powered field, all he would feel was pain.

_Brilliant_, he couldn't help but think. He had looked into this kind of design himself just a few months ago as a method for entrapping a lavoid Queen, discarding it because the field also prevented him from attacking her. The spark then hit him that those who had planned this were not intent on his death right away. No, he had a feeling from the timestreams that there was something much worse in his future.

As he rose into the room above, a few figures were soon standing before him, presumably his captors. He recognized two of them, perhaps two people that he had never wanted to see again. Multani and Cain, the only two Wanderers left in this timestream that he knew of, loomed over him like hunters about to gut their freshly caught prey. Off to the side, Duncan caught the sight of an unfamiliar face.

"Amazing, Yral," Cain told the man Duncan didn't know. "Your trap worked absolutely perfectly! I must admit, I had some doubts about it at first, but you have really come through this time." Duncan struggled to move, but the suspension array locked his body in place.

"All as promised, Emperor," Yral smugly said. "I had faith in my technology." He crossed his arms over his chest and walked up to the captured planeswalker. "And so this is Duncan McKlane? The strongest planeswalker left in the galaxy? I must admit, I'm rather unimpressed." Duncan grimaced.

"Too true," Cain agreed. He also walked closer to the suspended planeswalker. "Now, your loss of powers was not exactly your fault, Duncan, but did you suppose I would give myself up in an area so easily attacked? For someone who is supposedly prescient, I would have thought you'd have more foresight than this!"

"You speak pretty highly of yourself as someone who clearly fears fighting me in fair combat, Emperor," Duncan said bitterly, his body still coursing with electricity while he tried not to show sign of pain.

"Bold words from a captive," Multani interjected. "You should speak to the Emperor with more respect. Perhaps if you do so, your death will be painless."

"Hah," Duncan laughed. "And you're going to kill me now, you arrogant bastards? Anti-magic fields are one thing, and I'll give you that, but you don't have the energy at your disposal to actually kill me and you _know_ it."

"In your current state, probably not," Yral said. "But when we're done with you, you may be eating those words." Duncan ignored him.

"I'm going to kill each of you," he said plainly. "You can't keep me suspended here forever. Whatever power you're using to generate these fields will eventually die and than I'm going make sure you all are sufficiently punished for…inconveniencing my planned activities for the day."

"Your confidence is your flaw," Cain said. "And we'll see how confident you are when you're on the dissection table." He looked towards one of the scientists by the computer consoles to the left. "Knock him out." A switch was thrown and the electrical flow through Duncan's body increased ten fold. His face distorted as he went into convulsions and smoke began to rise off of his body. The current was increased further until he eventually went limp, hanging helplessly in the energy field. Technicians quickly moved his body onto the floor and bound him. The Cain and his councilmen walked up to the smoking form.

"Amazing," Yral said. "Even that much energy is only capable of knocking him unconscious?"

"He doesn't stray far from the truth when he says we don't have enough magical energy to harm him," Cain admitted. "I fear spells as powerful as the Dragon Slave would only be distorted by his natural resistance. Even worse, I've seen that even in unconsciousness, he's capable of planeshifting and dodging such an attack as if it were sheer instinct."

"Not for much longer," Yral said. "It's only a matter of time. Once the genetic limiters are in place, it'll only be a few hours before his natural intake of Chaos has dropped to non-existent levels, diminishing his magical resistance and destroying his ability to planeshift. At that point, Emperor, he will be ours." A few soldiers came into the room and hoisted up Duncan's limp form. They carried him out of the room and off to the labs.

.

When Duncan woke up, he found himself strapped to a wide steel table. Around him, he could sense the buzzing of the same anti-magic field that had subdued him the first time. His head was groggy. They were keeping him on some sort of drug that was being pumped into him fast enough to counteract his hyper-detoxification. He tried to look around but found that his vision was blurry. He tried to focus his sight and was able to make out a few forms moving about. The next instant, someone was leaning over him, lifting up his eyelids and shining a light into his eyes. He tried to pull back, but found that his muscles didn't feel like responding. His brain hummed.

"Awake?" the voice of the scientist over him said, the sound bouncing back and forth between his ears, the echo being almost painful.

"What…?" he asked, not having any real conception of what was doing on. He was capture, he remembered that much. They had probably taken him to their ship, and only Iluvitar knew where it was headed at this point. Kyrie would hopefully be tailing them, knowing something was wrong when he didn't report. With any luck, he'd be able to sober up and blow these guys away and make a quick escape to his ship. The only problem was that sobering up seemed like the absolute hardest thing to do right now.

"You're finally coming around," the scientist said. He squinted again and the image of a man in a white coat came into view.

"Where am I?" Duncan asked, his own voice reverberating in his head just like the scientist's had.

"You're on the Dominion Warship Preeminence, just as you have been for the last two hours."

"And what…are you doing with me?" he asked.

"Well, not so much what we are doing," the scientist answered. "But what we've already done." Duncan tried to sense out the room better. Not much was familiar, but off to the far right, there was something that he recognized. The Dreamblade! They left it in the same room as him? How stupid…or confident could they be? Now if he could just force his body to listen to the orders his mind tried to give…

"And that is?" he asked.

"We've been busy realigning some of your genetic code, is all," the scientist said. "Most notably your lavoid Factor which, if I might add, is quite an amazing thing. I'm going to have months of fun researching the information you've been…nice enough to give us." He stood up, moving almost entirely out of Duncan's field of focus. His voice still echoed in Duncan's head, though, as he continued talking.

"At any rate, we've inserted into you genes something called a genetic limiter. Actually, if you want to get picky, we've inserted many of them. It's quite advanced nanotechnology, you see, and if you'll notice, your latent absorption of Chaos has started to decline, has it not?" Duncan considered it, only then noticing that he did feel a much weaker flow of the stuff coursing through his Jurai Apparatuses. He didn't say anything.

"You'll soon be unable to channel any Chaos as all," the scientist continued. "And as you know, along with Chaos, your ability to use the Black Wings will also disappear, so none of that interesting planeshifting will save you now."

"Why?" Duncan asked in a strained voice.

"Because when you are unable to take in Chaos, planeshift, or do any of those other fancy tricks of yours…"

"We'll kill you," came a sharp new voice. He couldn't discern its source, but he recognized it as belonging to that man from before, Yral.

"You…" Duncan said, trailing off. He started to think about what he could do. They had tied down most of his physical and ethereal manipulation down, but what if he manipulated his _own_ astral form to try and free himself? Now if he could just get a gauge of how well they had him tied down…

"You're quite the resistant son of bitch," Yral told him. "I'm sorry we had to go through all of that to capture you, but you understand that normal means just wouldn't have cut it, don't you?"

"Why set me up?" Duncan asked. "Why go through so much to try and catch me off guard. Why had I done to attract such attention?"

"You existence alone warranted it, according to the Emperor," Yral answered. "And you apparently _were_ looking to assassinate him."

"It's only because of your collection of the Eldarion," Duncan answered, some of his voice coming back to him, but his body still too sore to move. "What else was I to do when you were clearly moving to attack either me or others of my kind?"

"Collecting the Eldarion?" Yral asked. "Planeswalker, I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"You killed Hyrial," Duncan said weakly. "Our Brotherhood had been provoked. You and your Emperor deserved whatever we decided to administer."

"Hyrial? Who is he?"

"The planeswalker you disposed of recently. His name was Hyrial."

"I was unaware of such action, and I assure you, I would have known if something such as the assassination of a planeswalker had taken place."

"What?" Duncan asked, now thoroughly confused. "You didn't kill him?" he asked.

"No," Yral conceded.

"Then…" Duncan suddenly had a sinking feeling. Had he put himself into this peril for no reason at all? How did he fall into this trap so willingly?! He shook his head with what little energy he had, realizing that now, very quickly, he needed to get out of here.

"You're quite helpless, Duncan," Yral said. "We've shielded all of your Order emanations. You have no more Chaos access. I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you." Duncan chuckled, not nearly ready to let his opponent get the satisfaction of breaking him.

"You forgot something, though," He said, some strength coming back to him.

"Hmm?"

"My ability to manipulate my own astral form…" Duncan said. Yral's eyes lit up in a moment of surprise as something flew in from the periphery. He dodged barely in time to allow the Dreamblade to slide past him and neatly impale the other scientist. He looked down at Duncan, who was visibly smiling. Yral was suddenly thrown up against the wall by an unseen force.

"Chi power?!" Yral asked in surprise, his voice choked as Duncan applied astral pressure to his neck.

"It's…easy," Duncan said, his vision still blurred and his strength not all together there. Now he would make it seem that he was not as weak as Yral perceived him to be. "With a little practice, you can manipulate your own astral energies to have effects on real space. In raw terms, it's not as powerful as manipulating the other energies that exist, but it's still effective, and you seemed to have forgotten to block me from it." Dizzy, his mind felt its way to his bindings, forcing them open with applied chi energy. He slowly freed himself, keeping Yral suspended against the wall. Finally standing up, he used similar energies to pull the Dreamblade into his hand, moving forward with a bit of a stumble until he was holding the weapon against Yral's neck.

"Now how do I get out of here?" he asked coldly.

"I…I…" Yral stuttered, not sure what to do. "My trap was perfect!" he managed to say. "How did you get out?" Duncan smiled.

"Ingenuity," he said. He applied a little more pressure on the blade. "Now _how_ do I get out of here?" he demanded again. As he said this, there was a crash and the entire ship bucked and swayed. His lost his concentration, allowing Yral to fall to the floor. The Councilman quickly scrambled up and out of the room while Duncan swayed back, the motion of the ship magnifying whatever dizziness he already suffered from. Red lights started to flash and the ship went into security mode.

"Warning, warning!" the ships computer shouted in a feminine voice. "Hull integrity breeched. Alert level Five. Warning, warning!"

"What the hell?" Duncan asked aloud. A few moments later, there was gunfire outside of the room he was in. Some people were giving battle orders, but they were quickly drowned out by screaming. Human screaming. Something was in the ship.

The door. Something slammed against it. Duncan hadn't seen it open or close when Yral left, but while it was not opening automatically, it was quickly being bashed in. After a few more attacks, the metal caved and a swarm of blue skinned humanoids poured into the room. Leading them was one with longer hair-tendrils. On his hand was something that made Duncan quiver.

"That weapon!" Duncan said, lifting the Dreamblade up to block as the Heaven Fist –the Eldarion that Hyrial had wielded- was brought down on him by the Farilii Hunter-Killer in the lead. Duncan was knocked down and the Hunter-Killer was quickly perched on top of him.

"Lavoid Bane!" it hissed at him before he woozily kicked it off. He managed to fight for a few moments, deflecting a few blows and bringing down several of his attackers, but his body was still not entirely synced up with his mind yet, and it was only a matter of time before the Farilii managed to detain him. Before he knew what had happened the Heaven Fist dealt a blow that shook his astral form, knocking it unconscious. His physical form followed suit quickly after.

.

Twice in one day, Duncan was lost in the unconscious realm and he was starting to lose track of what was real and what wasn't. To make matters worse, when what he was almost sure _was_ real finally came into view, all he could do was _hope_ that it wasn't. It couldn't possibly be right; this was a place that he had sworn he would never again be detained. Not after that time…

Despite his inward protestations, it did look like he was trapped in the last place any sane person would ever want to be: the underbelly of a lavoid Fleet ship.

He had seen them before. He recognized the sickly, unnatural looking walls made up of brown and yellowish bio-matter. He recognized the tubules that ran across the floor, conducting the living liquid that kept these ships flying. He recognized the dim lighting created by bio-luminescent chemicals in the ceiling. Most of all, he recognized the Farilii in front of him: the Hunter-Killer from before that had knocked him out. He looked around the room. It was roughly circular in form, about thirty paces across. The ceiling sloped up into a dome-like shape, though the geometry was not entirely right. He was bound upright, held directly to the wall.

His mind was not as dreary as it was before. They had bound him, but they hadn't drugged him. He never took lavoids to be stupid though, and the drugs from the Dominion were wearing off. With a little luck, this oversight could be taken advantage of and…

"Don't," the Farilii in front of him said flatly, sensing Duncan's gathering of Order energies. Duncan narrowed his eyes and let out a growl.

"I'm not so drugged up as before," Duncan spat. "Want to try your luck again?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," the Farilii spoke, his voice ringing with haunting intelligence. This had been someone powerful _and_ smart before the lavoids had turned him.

"You'll have to try and stop me, then" Duncan said. He closed his eyes and gathered the energies entailed in a Gaav Flare…

"I'm telling you," the Farilii said again. "It's for your own good…" He turned from Duncan and waved his hand over a discolored portion of the wall. With a slurping sound, the far walls of room slid apart, revealing a larger area. When he saw what was there, he lost concentration and dropped the Gaav Flare energies, suddenly understanding the threat.

"They're all quite drugged up," the Farilii said. "So they won't understand if you call out to them." True enough, that's exactly what Duncan's first instinct had been. He wanted to call out with all his energy to the three figures that were bound unconsciously against the newly revealed far wall. Three people. Three pairs of amethyst eyes. Three heads of blue hair. Caina. Tyrus. Hyrial.

The last one was actually a pleasant surprise. At least now Duncan knew where Hyrial was (and that he wasn't dead). Of course the problem now was that his friends were being held hostage, no doubt being kept in a state where killing them would be easy. Duncan was helpless. If he attacked, he was sure they were as good as dead.

"Where's Rydial?" Duncan asked coldly, the Order he had gathered completely dissipated.

"The blue-eyed one?" the Farilii asked. Duncan nodded. "Oh, he was very strong and we weren't fortunate enough to have found him in such a weakened state as you were. I believe he killed upwards of seventy of us before escaping. It was…disappointing."

"And what do you want?" he asked. The Farilii walked back to him, stretched up towards Duncan's face and gave a simple response.

"You," he said. He leaned back down and took a few steps back. "Or more importantly, your genetic code."

"What?" Duncan asked. The Farilii ignored him, snapping his fingers. To Duncan's surprise, the bonds on his hands and feet separated and he fell off of the wall. Again, his first impulse was to charge forward and strangle the living hell out of the Farilii, but reason got the better of him; he'd never be able to free his comrades and escape safely.

"Why?" Duncan asked, rubbing his newly freed wrists.

"I'm not the one to explain it to you," the Farilii said. He turned his back to Duncan. "Follow me." He took a few steps, then paused. "Your sword, by the way, is fine. We'll give it back when we release you."

"Release?" Duncan asked, confused. The Farilii made no answer, but continued to walk out of the room and into the hall. Duncan followed, being sure to let lose a scowl at whatever walked past him in the hallways. The creatures that bustled about seemed to know of him, and they were visibly scared. Taking some solace in that, Duncan walked behind the Farilii peacefully, all the while knowing that the lives of his friends were resting on him.

The halls were lined with the same bio-matter that made up the room he was detained in. They were dimly lit, but everyone on the ship seemed to know where they were going as if directed by some higher force. Duncan thought of that higher force and came to the conclusion that he was no doubt being led to the strongest lavoid on this ship. There, he would hopefully get some answers.

He was led up a spiraling stairway and through a great vaulted arch that gave way to a large chamber. Against the far wall, a blue humanoid with no nose and long blue hair-tendrils sat in a throne-type chair. As Duncan was led into the room, the lavoid stood up and walked up to the beleaguered planeswalker. The Farilii that had led him here turned and left the room.

"Good day, Dr. McKlane," the lavoid said as it approached him. The civilized tone it used was always unexpected, but actually very typical of lavoids. "It's good finally meet you."

"Drop the formal bull shit and call me Duncan, at the very least," Duncan spat. He quickly scanned the lavoid. "Judging by your emissions, I'd say you're a reasonably powerful Class A, huh? Well, just speak knowing the only reason I haven't killed you yet is because I don't think I'd be able to do so and save my friends before they were killed."

"A temper fulfilling the legends," the lavoid said. "Oh, I _am_ pleased." He let out a chuckle. "I am called Valra, and given what our readings say of _your_ emissions, I don't think you'd have such a simple time killing me. Ironically enough, _that_ is why you've been left alive."

"Explain," Duncan said curtly.

"Your genes," Valra said. "Specifically, your lavoid Factor. It's been…shut off. Your Chaos emissions are non-existent and I don't think you'd even be able to channel the stuff if you tried. I take it this is what those Dominion pigs were doing to you whilst you were detained."  
  
"Genetic limiters…" Duncan said. _Damn, bastards! They're right. I can't channel Chaos! A lavoid Slave wouldn't even be feasible!_

"Yes," Valra said. "Very well placed ones, I must admit. Moreover, they are limiters that, sadly enough, we don't have the technology to remove."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"Well, Dr. Mc…er…Duncan, it happens about that we _need_ that nice, first generation planeswalker genetic code of yours. We tried examining the codes of some of your brethren, but they're all too far removed from their original parent lavoids. Their codes have already begun to degenerate, so they are useless to use. We need a clean, fresh lavoid Factor, Duncan, and we suspect you're the only creature left in the universe that possesses one."

"That's ridiculous," Duncan said. "Why not just take your own?" The lavoid looked at him with a confused glance for a moment, before realizing an important truth.

"So you really _are_ unaware of the predicament that your father threw us in fifteen hundred years ago?"

"What?"

"Oh yes," Valra said. "I'm sure you know of the Second Fall of Terra, Duncan." The planeswalker nodded. Valra continued. "Well the Mera Flux, the spell that your father cast to tear through Chaos and annihilate anything it touched happened to have an interesting little side effect that we as a species have only come to realize over the last two hundred years or so. Are you aware of the temporal distortions that occurred around that time?"

"All the lavoids were kill except Pyriorias, who undid the deaths of about half them. Supposedly, the others were left dead out of respect to my father."

"Right," Valra confirmed. "However, to say that Pyriorias escaped unscathed would be falsehood. The Mera Flux…altered her lavoid Factor. It set it into a slow decay that has been occurring ever since. It's somewhat of a mutation, you could say. To make matters more complicated, when she revived the other lavoids, she revived them from moments before the Flux. Since the mutating effect was a precursor to the actual wave, all the lavoids reborn that day were also cursed with an eroding genetic code." Duncan considered this for a moment, realizing that if the Mera Flux did have the results it was supposed to have, this was probably true.

"Ha!" Duncan exclaimed, laughing out loud. "And you poor bastards are going to slowly die off as you lose your abilities!"

"Not quite, Duncan," Valra corrected. "As of course we've taken counter measures. Hence, you and your companions are here. You four, with the exception of Rydial, are the eldest remaining planeswalkers, and the ones with the most intact DNA. Since you survived the Second Fall, your DNA was never mutated. In fact, when we are able to fully copy your genetic code, developing a process for healing our disorder will be easy. It's just the slight matter that-"

"The Dominion screwed my genes up before you could get to them," Duncan said, inwardly laughing at the fact that the Dominion had actually done something good in a backwards sense. "Serves you fucks right."

"Again, we thought we could just assemble a proper code from your allies, but they have all been too far removed from the source of their code. That only leaves you, Duncan. You have what we need." His eyes narrowed. "And we will kill your friends if you do not help us get it." Duncan recognized the threat, shaking his head for a moment.

"What do you want me to do?" Duncan asked.

"It's quite simple," Valra said. "You are to get your limiters removed. Then you are to come back here and we will extract your code. If you do this, we will allow you and your allies to leave and allow your defeats to come in natural combat."

"What makes you think I won't just use my restored power to screw you guys over?"

"That will not be an option," Valra said. "If you desire the security of your brethren, you have no choice but to cooperate with us."

Inwardly, Duncan knew he was right.

"So where do I go?" he asked. "Because I don't think the Dominion's going to be ready to just undo their own little bit of handiwork."

"We have scouted an area," Valra admitted, turning back around, walking to the throne and sitting down again. "And we believe that there is a scientist capable of performing the proper operation in the Eldar Confederacy. You will go there and do whatever it takes to get these limiters removed."

"Tch…" Duncan muttered, shaking his head again. A pawn to the lavoids? Him? How could this have happened? He ran the facts over in his head, realizing one truth: if he wanted the lives of Caina, Tyrus and Hyrial saved, he would have to do this.

"I've already contacted your partner, the elf-woman," Valra said. "Your ship is already nearby. I will transport you there and you will get on with your quest."

"How long do I have?" Duncan asked, straightening up.

"As long as you need," Valra said. "Barring the time that it would take for our genetics to degrade to noticeable levels. That will give you at least a century, which should be plenty of time." Duncan decided then that there was no chance in hell he'd take that long.

"Okay, then," Duncan said. "I do this, you get my code, and you let me and my pals go. That's the deal, right?"

"Correct. If you like, I shall teleport you to your ship now."

"Fine," Duncan said. "Do it. But listen to me when I tell you that if you double cross me, I will bring you suffering the likes of which you have never felt. If you even think for a moment of harming any of those captives, I'll invoke upon you a spell that makes the Mera Flux look like a professional massage."

"Agreed," Valra said, already having gathered the energy in the room to teleport the planeswalker away. "Now, go!" He waved his hand and Duncan was encased in a sphere of energy. A moment later, the sphere was gone and the room was quiet. Pleased with himself, Valra folded his hands across his lap and continued to send out the neural commands that guided the ship.

.

Duncan appeared in the main hallway of the Vendetta. In an instant, Kyrie was in the room, helping him up. On the floor next to him lay his sword, the Dreamblade, returned as promised. With Kyrie's help, he slowly climbed to his feet.

"Holy shit, Duncan, let's get you to the infirmary," she said. "You look like hell." Duncan brushed himself off. His shirt long since destroyed, he ran his hands over the scars that laced his chest, remnants of another time he was trapped in a lavoid vessel.

"That's probably because I just paid it a visit," he said coldly. "But I'll be fine. We need to get moving."

"I'm just glad you're alive, Duncan," Kyrie admitted, looking at him worriedly. Duncan managed a nod.

"Me too, Kyrie," he said, turning towards the bridge. "But we've got a hell of a job set ahead of us."

"What's the deal, Duncan? Why did they let you go?"

"I'll explain on the way," he said. "For now, set a course. We're off to Escillian, capital of the Eldar Confederacy…"


End file.
